Breaking Dawn Reimagined
by Visser2315
Summary: When the delicate balance between worlds comes under threat, the Volturi seek out Beau for a task only he can do—but even the most perfect of loves can be a double-edged sword, and the Volturi's greatest enemy may turn out to be someone Beau has never known to fight. [The final installment of the Reimagined series.]
1. Preface

A/N: And, we're back for the final story. Coasting on the coattails of SM's work for the previous projects was fun, but now we're down to the real work... Wish me luck, guys.

Disclaimer: The Twilight series, as well as the characters from _Life and Death: Twilight Reimagined_ all belong to Stephanie Meyer. Many of the descriptions, dialogue, and word choices early on may belong to her, too. (Mostly in chapters one through four, before we hit the point where the plot diverges sharply from the original _Breaking Dawn._ Because this story wouldn't be complete without as much plagiarism as possible.)

Rated T for violence, and some sexual themes. (Though expect some scaling back on the latter in comparison to the original—the rationale there will be discussed in notes in later chapters.)

Thanks so much to all of you who have stuck with me all this time, and see you next chapter! :J

* * *

Preface

I'd had to make a lot of tough choices in my time. Especially the last year.

I was ready for this. Ready to risk everything, to make the ultimate sacrifice, if only I would just have a chance to help those who had already suffered, and those who would still suffer if something wasn't done. I could do the right thing, regardless of all else.

Doing the right thing was never supposed to be easy. I knew that. And yet, as I stood there, gazing into the face of the one person who mattered most, restrained in the iron grip of a figure in a dark cloak, I felt as though I might be wrenched in two. I never imagined that doing the right thing would ever constitute such a betrayal.

The sun beat down from above, playing off our hard skin, as I opened my mouth to speak.


	2. Sacrifices

A/N: And, putting this up as a combo with the preface. (The prefaces are so short, it doesn't really seem fair to put it up as its own chapter. And it's nice to get some momentum going with the first few posts.) Posts will probably continue to run at about four-week intervals, though if I get the later chapters edited to a place I feel more comfortable, I may go back to the old three-week schedule, we'll see.

Again, starting out here things will be pretty similar to the original, up through about Chapter 4. From there, expect to start seeing quite a few differences. (Whether you'll find that a good thing or a bad thing remains to be seen.)

Again, thanks so much to everyone who's kept up with these Reimagined stories all this time, and to any new readers out there, welcome! We're starting in on the final leg now—hope you enjoy, and see you at the end! C:

* * *

Chapter 1: Sacrifices

I stared straight ahead, at the red stoplight—one of only about three traffic lights in town—with what I hoped was a nonchalant, nondescript expression. The kind of expression a perfectly ordinary guy wore when he was driving on a routine trip to the gas station. An ordinary guy that no one would have any possible reason to stare at.

_Relax, _I told myself. _No one is staring at you. It's just a normal, everyday trip to the gas station._

Unfortunately, I couldn't quite control my eyes, and they flickered once to the side—instantly dispelling my flimsy attempts at self-delusion.

I saw Reverend Weber and his wife in the minivan directly to my right, and they were both turned fully in my direction, staring with undisguised amazement, eyes round, mouths slightly agape.

I might have wondered at the rudeness of staring so openly—the Webers were, like their son Allen, normally the epitome of good manners—but the fact was that the windows of my current vehicle were so darkly tinted, they probably couldn't see me in here. The one blessing of this monstrosity I was currently driving—no one could see that my face was as bright red as the stoplight.

They weren't staring at me, naturally, but the car. Or, _The Car_, as I liked to think of it. Because it was the king of all other merely mortal cars, and could not even enter town without drawing the attention of all the meager inhabitants to its glossy black frame, as though it had its own entourage of escorts trumpeting fanfare as it went.

In my mind, _The Car_ had already taken on a personality of its own, and its opinions were often strangely similar to opinions that I imagined Royal—my soon to be brother-in-law—wouldn't have disagreed with. I tried not to think about how _The Car _must feel, with the indignity of being driven by me.

I couldn't stand looking at the Webers anymore, especially now that the twin girls had also popped up their heads from the backseat to stare with wide eyes, so I turned my head back around to the left, and immediately regretted it.

Two pedestrians had frozen on the sidewalk, missing their chance to cross the street as they gaped, and behind them, Mrs. Marshall was gawking through the window of her little souvenir shop. I thought I imagined I saw her hand itching toward the phone, to call all her friends from the beauty parlor to spread the gossip.

I was in such a hurry to escape, the moment the light turned green, I punched the gas pedal, like I would have in my ancient Chevy to get it moving.

Big mistake. The engine snarled like an angry panther, then shot forward so fast that I was flattened against the leather seat. I felt like a jet pilot.

Cautiously, I barely tapped the break, but, as I'd been trying to avoid, it lurched to a standstill anyway. I imagined _The Car_ gnashing its teeth in frustration. So much potential, all completely wasted on me.

I pulled quickly up to the gas station, fumbling with the gas cap and my credit card in my hurry to be done and gone—before anyone who knew me could connect me to the black king sitting beside me on the asphalt.

Two guys were standing by their own pump, openly gawking. Finally, they glanced at each other, and one produced a professional-looking camera from among some backpacking equipment, and started over.

I sighed. I really missed my truck.

It was barely mid-summer after I'd graduated high school, and even though my favorite, good old Chevy had chugged faithfully away for the last half century at least, it had chosen to finally give up the ghost a couple weeks back. Course, I had reason to suspect foul play—there was someone I knew who had both means and motive to see my truck with its fifty-five mile-per-hour limit dead—but as there had been no autopsy, I never could have my suspicions confirmed. I really knew only one mechanic, and she—

I cut that thought off where it was. I had plenty to worry about—stress about—without adding more to the list. Driving around a hunk of steel with missile-proof glass for windows and four thousand pounds of body armor, designed mainly with Middle East diplomats and drug lords in mind, was one concern. The fact I was getting married in a few days was another.

I wasn't afraid of commitment. Even if marriage might seem a bit early, barely after high school graduation, it was exactly what I wanted. I knew the girl I wanted to be with—she was my future.

No, my anxiety about the marriage thing was a bit different. According to my past record, I didn't do so hot when it came to ceremonial occasions. Being so uncoordinated you tripped over your own feet, one tended to accumulate a lot of scarring experiences when it came to anything that was supposed to be remotely formal or solemn.

However, there was more attached to this than any of my human family or friends realized. Because Edythe had promised that, sometime after we were married, she would change me. Make me like her—graceful, strong, beautiful. Without a heartbeat. A vampire.

It was what I had asked for, and I wasn't getting cold feet. And yet—a lot was about to change in a big way. I knew I was about to get what I'd been asking for for months now, and a part of me was excited, and yet I couldn't quite escape the feeling that my execution day was approaching. In order for me to become Beau Cullen, clever, powerful new vampire, Edythe's equal, Beaufort Swan, clumsy oaf who tripped over his own shoes and went red at the drop of a dime, would have to die. And ordinary and uninteresting a guy as he was, he was going to be leaving some people behind.

As I drove away from the gas station—I'd let the guys who'd come up to the car take turns taking pictures with it, like it was some celebrity, and only just escaped—and turned onto the last road back home, I couldn't stop my eyes from wandering to the side of the road, to the line of fliers stapled to telephone poles and taped to street signs. Most were now faded with rain, and yet the single face on all of them jumped out at me, like a sharp knife in my conscience.

Missing posters—the kind I used to see in the neighborhood back in Phoenix, for children who had disappeared, for runaway pets and teenagers. My dad, the police chief of our little town, had been the one to get them printed and put up. He was worried about the girl who was the daughter of one of his closest friends, the girl who also happened to be my best friend.

I was worried about her, too, but not for the same reasons he was. Maybe a normal sixteen-year-old girl runaway would have been in quite a bit of danger—falling in with a bad crowd, getting taken advantage of or attacked down a dark alley—but Julie Black was not most sixteen-year-old girls. Any ordinary human who tried to threaten her could potentially get his face ripped off. Not that anyone in his right mind would ever try to approach a giant wolf running through the forest.

But I was still crazy with worry. Because, even though I'd made my choice, that didn't change the fact that she was my best friend, and I knew better than anyone how so often emotional pain was so much worse than physical.

As I pulled closer to my house, I saw my dad's police cruiser in the driveway—it was Saturday, and apparently there were no emergencies he'd been called in to take care of. For the last few weeks, he hadn't been going out fishing as he usually did. I couldn't tell if this was his way of protesting the speedy wedding, or because he simply wanted to be around the house more because he realized how soon it would be empty again. He hadn't pushed for any quality time together, but then, when it came to the sensitive or sentimental, he wasn't always the most direct person in the world.

I pulled up on the curb behind the silent relic of my old Chevy, and turned off the engine. I scanned the surrounding area once, quickly. Then, feeling like a criminal, I quickly pulled the cellphone Edythe had given me for emergencies out of the glove compartment. I had a call to make which I couldn't make with Charlie around, and I preferred not to make with Edythe close by—I didn't like to worry her, and when she saw me worried, she worried too. Fortunately, she was away for the weekend on one of her hunting trips.

I punched in the familiar number quickly, and listened to the dial tone, ready to hit _End_ if I didn't get the person I was hoping for.

"Hello?"

I breathed a silent sigh of relief at Sarah Clearwater's voice. Sarah was probably about the only one in the entire wolf pack who didn't hate my guts, but her brother Lee was on a different level. He made Royal look like my best friend.

"Hey, Sarah, it's Beau."

"Oh hey, Beau!" I could hear the grin in her voice. "How are you?"

There wasn't a hint of surprise in her voice—ever since Jules had run off, I'd been calling her every chance I got. She was my only connection to make sure Jules was still out there, and relatively okay. "Fine," I said. It was only partially a lie.

"So," she said. "I guess you're wanting to find out how Jules is doing, huh?" Her cheerful tone was a touch more serious.

I gripped the phone a little tighter. "Is everything okay?"

Sarah sighed. "About the same. She hears us, but she won't talk to us. She's trying not to think human, and when she does, she just thinks the same things over and over."

I hesitated. "Things?" I repeated cautiously.

Sarah paused, as if she wasn't sure how much she ought to say. "Mostly worrying about you," she confessed at last.

Worrying about me—course she was. Course she would be worrying about me, when I was the last person who needed worrying, and hardly deserved it if I did.

I waited for more, but Sarah didn't continue. Finally I said, "Do you know where she is now?"

"Not really. She hasn't really been paying all that close attention to exactly where she is. But it's somewhere in northern Canada."

I nodded. Then, because I had to ask, I added, "Has she had any thoughts about...you know...coming back?"

"Sorry, Beau."

I didn't answer for a moment, trying to keep my throat from closing up. "Let me know if she does."

"Sure," Sarah answered. "I will. We're all waiting. The others miss her, too."

"Thanks for doing this for me," I said. "And for talking to me." I hesitated. "The others don't give you crap about it, do they?"

She laughed, and her momentarily glum tone was cheerful again. "Paula grumbles about it. But she grumbles about everything. And Lee too, but I never care what he thinks anyway, so he doesn't count."

"Sorry," I muttered, horrified I might be putting Sarah in a situation where she was getting bullied by one of her fellow sisters in the wolf pack, and her older brother.

Sarah laughed again. "I don't care what they think. They've all had such a bad attitude about this—I mean, you made your choice, and Jules made hers. Jules doesn't like how they've been acting, either."

This made me start a little. "She's...aware of what you all are thinking? I thought she wasn't talking to you."

"She tries not to." I could almost see Sarah shrug. "But she can't shut us out completely, any more than we can shut her out. Like I said, she keeps worrying about you. And she's also kind of peeved that you keep checking up on her."

I winced a little. So, she knew about this. I was glad she knew I hadn't just forgotten her, but I wondered if I was just making things harder on her. Again.

"Well," I said at last. "I guess I'll see you at the...the..."

"Wedding?" Sarah prompted, and again I could almost see her grin.

"Yeah," I said. "That."

"Tell Edythe I'm totally stoked about it," she said with enthusiasm. "I've never been a flower girl before. My dad is coming, too."

"Sure, I'll tell her," I said, smiling. When Edythe had told me she'd put them on the guest list and asked Sarah to help out, I'd been pleasantly surprised. I wouldn't have thought of inviting any of the wolves to the wedding, let alone having one participate. To most of the wolves, this was a travesty against nature, and I was making the biggest mistake of my life. It would be great to have Sarah there, as a reminder that at least one member of my wolf family didn't hate my vampire family. And, though I wouldn't have said it out loud, it would also be nice to have someone there with some connection to my missing best friend.

Sarah paused a second, and in the background I thought I heard a door slam.

Then Sarah said, "Well, _Beau_, I've got to go." She emphasized my name. "And like I said, be sure to tell _Edythe_ thanks so much for letting us come, and for letting me be a part of it—we're really looking forward to it. Lee's so jealous he's not getting to go, he practically begged me to ask Edythe to get him an invitation, but—"

I heard a growling voice in the background letting fly a string of epithets, followed by what sounded like a struggle over the phone. I could hear Sarah laughing.

"Sorry," I whispered.

"See you at the wedding, Beau!" I heard Sarah call, though it sounded distant, like she didn't have her mouth very close to the mouthpiece.

I could hear Lee's hostile voice in the background. "Sorry? I'll give you sorry, you little—"

The line abruptly cut off.

I sighed. Sarah was definitely all wolf. Only a wolf would be brave enough to go out of her way to antagonize her brother like she did. Sarah had gotten a little taller in the past month, but it was nothing like her brother. He was like one of those ripped guys on the cover of _Muscle and Fitness,_ with biceps that should have had their own zip code—well, maybe that was a slight exaggeration. From a distance, tall as he was, he still looked pretty wiry. Maybe knowing he would have liked to see me fall off a cliff just made him look more intimidating.

I sighed deeply, leaning my head back against the headrest. So, Jules was still okay, at least physically. And still in too much pain to be human. And worrying about me, even though I was the one who had wrenched out her heart and crushed it into powder.

I shook my head. I had to get myself out of this mood before Edythe got back. We were getting married in a few days. I needed to be happy, for Edythe's sake if nothing else.

It wasn't really hard to be happy, excited—I was. It was just, at moments like this, it was a guilty kind of happy that just didn't feel quite right. Yet, it felt unfair to Edythe to let myself dwell on it at a time like this. As much as I knew I should hate myself for what I had done, when I hated myself too much and Edythe noticed, then Edythe hated herself, and everything just kind of sucked.

I sighed. Everything was so complicated.

I got out of the car and turned toward the house, where I knew my dad would be waiting. In the past, whenever I got home in the evening I usually expected to find him planted in front of the television, relaxing after a long day at work. However, more and more lately, I'd come in to find him just sitting on the couch, frowning deeply as though ruminating very hard over something. Then he would seem to come to himself and finally turn on the television, though even then it often felt like he wasn't really watching it.

I could only assume he was still processing—getting used to—the new state of things. Still thinking on that moment when Edythe and I had given him the news a few weeks back that, while couldn't have been entirely unexpected, changed everything.

* * *

Edythe and I sat in the living room as we both heard the sound of the police cruiser pull into the drive. No doubt Charlie had seen Edythe's car parked out front, and knew she was here. Still, I doubted he was ready for this bombshell.

I was rigid as a board, staring straight ahead at the blank television, and Edythe stroked my arm soothingly. "Relax," she murmured into my ear. "I really don't know what you're so agitated about. Surely there are worse things to have to tell your father than that you're getting married. Or do you think allowing yourself to be caught so easily will make him lose respect for you as a man?"

I sighed and shook my head. Of course she didn't understand. She wasn't going to be the one living in this house for the next month with a dad who was totally going to think I was doing something stupid and reckless. Even if it didn't blow up into a huge fight right now, I had a feeling there would soon be an underlying current of quietly simmering wrath from now until then—not a prospect I was looking forward to.

Theoretically, I knew I shouldn't let it bother me, what with everything else I had to worry about, but knowing how things should be and how it actually was were two different things.

I heard clumping feet down the hall, and the clinking and rustling of a gun holster being taken off and hung.

Charlie came around the corner then and, seeing us sitting on the couch together, did his best to put on a friendly face. He'd been doing his level best to be nicer these days, and put his unspoken animosity toward Edythe to rest. I hoped what we were about to tell him didn't completely smash all the progress we had made.

Sensing my feelings, Edythe reached over and took my hand.

"Hello, Edythe," Charlie said. He paused then, evidently noticing the odd way we were sitting, on the couch in front of the blank television not doing anything. "Everything all right?" he asked cautiously.

"Yes, thank you, Charlie," Edythe said, smiling back.

There was another pause, and I realized I was supposed to say something.

"Um, hey Dad," I began. "We kind of have something we wanted to tell you."

His slightly perplexed expression instantly clouded with suspicion. Eying us warily, he stepped carefully into the room, then sat himself down on the very edge of the recliner. He was nearly as tense as I was.

Edythe never stopped smiling, so perfectly relaxed it should have been a crime.

"So," I said, after another pause, fighting to make my tone light. "So, Dad. Edythe and I have been talking. And, uh...well...there's this thing..."

Charlie's eyebrows rose a notch.

Edythe seemed to realize I wasn't going to get anywhere at this rate, and took over. She said softly, "Beau and I have decided to get married, Charlie."

Silence.

"This summer," she continued. "Before Beau and I go to Dartmouth."

Again, the room was quiet. For once, it wasn't raining outside, and so even the yard was quiet, not even the rumble of a passing car. When Charlie finally found his voice, the would-be polite tone had a moving-a-four-hundred-pound-refrigerator edge of strain to it. "Why the rush?"

His eyes suddenly widened fractionally, then narrowed to slits. His gaze flickered from me to Edythe, then back to me. I didn't need to be a mind-reader to know what theories were likely occuring to him, and I was suddenly glad we'd given him a chance to hang up his gun before springing this on him. Edythe might have been bulletproof, but I definitely wasn't.

A bit indignant at the assumptions I could already see working themselves through his brain, and not wanting them to get any further, I felt a bit of my courage rise.

"We want to get married before we go to Dartmouth this fall," I explained. I gripped Edythe's hand a little more tightly. "I think it would be better that way."

His still-narrowed eyes once again shifted from one of us to the other and back. "Married," he muttered. He seemed to have found his voice again as, voice now more accusing than polite, he asked, "Who's idea was this?"

"Mine," Edythe answered at the same time I said, "Both of ours."

Charlie glanced between the two of us again, uncertain.

"Look, Dad," I said into the pause, "we've put a lot of thought into this, and we've decided this is what we want to do." I added, because I figured this was something he could understand, "And I think it would make Earnest feel better."

Charlie hesitated. "Well..." he said slowly, reluctantly.

I pressed my advantage. "You're the one who said I should be ready to take responsibility for things, and this is the most responsible thing I can do."

A second too late, I realized what this probably had to sound like, and I wished I'd thought that through a little more.

"I mean," I plunged on quickly, "like I said...when we'll be going to Dartmouth together... And we want to get a place together..."

Charlie was silent, his narrowed eyes not looking at us, but squinting at the far corner of the room. I knew this was a lot to take in, so suddenly. I couldn't imagine having said anything about this decision earlier—when we were still in high school—but I did feel bad, giving him so little advanced warning.

I opened my mouth to say more, but Edythe squeezed my hand again, and gripped my arm with her other hand. Signaling me to give him a minute.

Charlie glanced back at us again, and as he did, his eyes fell on Edythe's hand on my arm, her left hand. He saw the ring.

That detail must have made it real. For a long minute he stared at it. His face, already tense with suppressed emotion, turned slowly to red, then purple, and I braced myself for the inevitable explosion. However, shade by shade, the color returned to a normal hue, and his shoulders at last slumped in defeat.

"Have you set a day?" he muttered sullenly.

"Not precisely, just yet," Edythe replied. "But early August, we think. That will give us at least two weeks for our honeymoon, and a little time after that to prepare for our move before the semester starts at Dartmouth. We can have the wedding at my mother and father's house, so that will save us the trouble of trying to book a venue on such short notice."

She continued, "However, we will have to pick out a date very soon—we'll want to start sending out the invitations as soon as possible. I think we'll ask Reverend Weber, Allen's father, to oversee the ceremony and perform the reading of the vows. Also—I've already compiled most of the guest list on our family's end, but you and Beau might want to look at it, and add any other family you have who you would like to come."

Charlie and I both stared. I could tell Charlie wasn't sure whether to be impressed or scared. Suddenly this announcement of our engagement had turned into a business meeting.

"Sounds like you've got a definite plan of action," he mumbled. He added, "Is Carine going to be helping at all with the preparations?"

"A little," Edythe said. "But her work keeps her busy. And my sisters—while they are both very talented and I love them, and they will technically both be acting as my joint Maids of Honor, the finery of weddings is not exactly their area of expertise." She smiled a little wryly. "Earnest will do his best to help me—he has incredible design sense, of course, and he did quite a bit of the planning for his and Carine's wedding, so I've been told—but for the most part, I plan to take care of most of the details myself."

Charlie glanced once at me, then back at Edythe. His mouth was hanging slightly open. "Wow," he muttered at last.

Edythe smiled. "There is a lot of work to do."

Charlie's eyes were slightly wide for a moment longer, then he shook his head and his gaze shifted back to me. "Have you told your mother yet?"

He could tell by my expression what the answer was. He raised an eyebrow.

"You're going to have to tell her sometime," he pointed out. "And soon."

I swallowed. "I will."

"Maybe you should call her right now," he hinted. Maybe it was having such huge news sprung on him so last-minute, but I thought I detected just a hint of vindictive glee in the way his mouth twitched.

I could feel the panic bubbling in my stomach. "Maybe tomorrow morning."

"Maybe as soon as possible would be best," Edythe said gently, squeezing my heand to try to take the edge off the betrayal.

"She might want to be involved in the wedding preparations," Charlie pushed.

Edythe smiled brightly at that, dimples flashing. "I would love that. That would be so wonderful."

He glanced back at her, worry suddenly accidentally slipping into his expression. His eyes returned to me with an expression that plainly said, _Didn't you warn her?_

Edythe added, "Unless, of course, as Beau seems to think, she is absolutely opposed to the idea, and more inclined to verbal violence where the subject is concerned."

Worries assuaged, Charlie leaned back. However, he gave me another look, eyebrows raised. I sighed.

"Fine, I'll call her today," I grumbled. "Happy?"

Edythe touched my arm again. "It will be fine," she said softly.

Charlie pushed himself up from the recliner. "Well, while you're doing that, I think I'll just go out and give the cruiser a good scrub down. She's been needing a wash for awhile, and it's a nice day out." He added, looking just a little too smug, "Good luck."

"Thanks so much, Dad," I grumbled sourly.

Charlie headed toward the door, humming to himself, then paused. He turned back to give the two of us an appraising look. "So," he said. He looked from me to Edythe, then back again. "When can we start expecting some grandkids?"

My mouth dropped open. "_Dad!_" I hissed, and I glowered at him as I felt the heat creeping up my face. "_Please._"

"It's a fair question," he muttered, unrepentant.

I saw, out of the corner of my eye, a flash of pain flit across Edythe's face, too fast for Charlie to catch. Then her expression settled into one of mild amusement.

"We'll see what we can do," she said, with a bit of a smile.

When he was gone, I groaned, slumping down and putting my head in my hands. "Ugh," I muttered. "Seriously. I thought it was just my mom, but it's both of them."

She glanced back at me, uncertain. "What?"

I sighed, and leaned back against the couch. "They both compete on who can embarrass me the most."

She smiled then and laughed. "They care about you," she said softly. "Just remember that when you're telling your mother about our plans. Even if she is upset, it's simply because she's concerned for your welfare."

"Grandkids, though," I grumbled. "Isn't that a little premature? I mean, we just told him we were getting married five minutes ago, and he's already asking about kids. Seriously. Okay, tell me the truth. When we first told him we were getting married, he looked at you and thought you were pregnant."

Edythe's eyes dropped from mine, and she glanced away. "I'm not sure," she said slowly.

My eyebrows came down, confused. "What do you mean, you're not sure? Like, you weren't paying attention?"

She smiled a little ruefully. "Your father's mind isn't silent the way yours is, but his thoughts have always been partially masked from me. I don't hear precise words, I just get general emotions. I feel their intensity, but his mental voice is muffled."

I stared at her. "Really? Has it always been that way?"

She nodded. "Always. Though I didn't notice his thoughts were clouded until I met you—I never paid enough attention to him before to realize."

I sat there for a long minute, digesting this new bit of information I'd never known before. "So..." I said at last.

"So I've wondered if whatever it is that keeps me out of your head may be genetic," she said with a smile.

I shook my head. "That is so...how come you never told me?"

She shrugged. "You never asked."

I snorted, but let it go for now. "Never mind. So, you couldn't tell exactly what he was thinking when you said that? Like you couldn't hear him thinking, 'She's gotta be pregnant'?"

Her smile disappeared. "No," she said quietly. "Though based on the intensity of the array of emotions he was feeling, I wouldn't be surprised if that was the case."

I really looked at her for the first time. Her face was smooth, composed, but her eyes were pained. She was upset about something.

I put my hand gingerly to her face, and tried to get her to look up at me. She complied, and the deep sadness in her golden eyes was only more pronounced.

"What's wrong?" I asked. "I thought you were happy. You know, about this."

She put her hand over mine, sighing. "Oh, I am, Beau. I'm just sorry that...Charlie couldn't have been right."

I stared down at her, thoroughly bewildered.

"I mean that we..." she began slowly, haltingly. "That is to say I... wish I had that potential. To give you children."

I looked down at her seriously. "I've chosen you. I don't need anything else."

Edythe's eyes dropped from mine again, and she pulled her head away from my hand, though she kept her hand linked with mine as they dropped to her lap. "You feel that way now," she murmured.

She glared at the blank television, and she blinked twice. "I just hate it," she said after a moment. "I hate...you having to make sacrifices for me. I want to give things to you, not take them away."

I drew her in and put my arm around her slender shoulders. "Sometimes you have to make sacrifices to get what you really want," I said. "Sometimes making sacrifices is the only way you can be happy. So long as I get to choose what sacrifices I'm making, I'm good. And think of all the sacrifices you've had to make for me. You've had this way harder than I have. It's my turn."

Edythe took a shaky breath, and she took my hand, pressing it to her face and inhaling deeply.

We sat a minute in silence, and I listened to the sound of water running outside. At last, I sighed deeply. "Well, I guess I better go do it. Things kind of went better than I expected with Charlie, so I guess that means I should expect things to go _doubly_ worse with my mom."

Edythe laughed, and she seemed past her momentarily dark mood, at least for now. "I can see it's a good thing it wasn't your optimism I fell in love with."

"Pessimism is a good emotional defense," I said. "If you expect the absolute worst, then things always turn out better than you expect. Or, if they do turn out the worst, at least you aren't disappointed."

She leaned up and kissed me on the cheek. "Good luck. And tell your mother she's more than welcome to help with any of the preparations, if she would like. I would love her help."

"I'll pass that along," I muttered as I got up and headed over to the kitchen phone. "If she stops yelling long enough for me to get a word in edgewise."

* * *

Having shut the cellphone and returned it to my pocket, I now pushed the door into the house and stepped inside.

I was smiling a bit to myself—I remembered how I dreaded telling my mom about our plans. She had married young, and she'd always drilled into me that it wasn't a good decision—while she didn't regret it in the slightest, because she'd gotten me in the deal, she was always adamant that marriage was something you didn't take lightly. You waited until you were old enough to really understand what you were doing.

So I'd been expecting a huge lecture, some crying and wondering about where she'd gone wrong, and some blistering arguments. However, in the end, she'd been even more mellow than my dad, even excited.

"_Oh, honey. All those things I said, I was talking about me. You—you've always been responsible and known how to take things seriously. You know what you want. I'm not worried about you—I know you'll be happy."_

And then she was asking when she could come up, and how much she could help in the wedding, and if it would be rude for the mother of the groom to be too involved—it took me a while to get over my shock enough to try to answer her questions.

What kept bothering me more now was Edythe, and what she had said. Even though I'd repeatedly warned him not to, Charlie had taken to periodically bringing up when he could start expecting us to give him grandchildren. He had never before in his life mentioned wanting grandchildren that I could ever remember, but the anticipation of this seemed to be what was helping him cope with the shock of our sudden engagement. And whenever he did, Edythe always had some reaction. Either she would flinch, or look down, or her eyes would fill with sudden agony. Always too fast for Charlie to register, before she would cover it with amusement. So I knew Edythe was still worrying over it.

I also knew that wasn't the only sacrifice Edythe was worried about. In the last month, she had barely mentioned our honeymoon. I was afraid to ask about it, because whenever the subject came up, she sometimes got that same look on her face as when Charlie mentioned grandkids.

I knew we weren't going to be having a real honeymoon, not while I was human. We'd already had that conversation. I had no clue what our honeymoon would be then—maybe we would just be spending time together, alone. I guessed that could be nice too, and I tried to focus on the fact I'd be spending time with Edythe. We would get our honeymoon when I was changed, and less breakable. I just had to make myself be satisfied with that—I only hoped that, when I was changed, I'd still be myself enough for it to be the same.

I really wished now I hadn't said anything about my fears to Edythe. Whenever she got that pained look in her eyes on the subject of our honeymoon, I had a feeling she was thinking about that conversation, torturing herself with it. A part of me wanted to bring the subject up again, to try to make her feel better, to assure her everything was okay. But I didn't trust myself. It was just like those first few times she'd kissed me—I'd always started out telling myself I needed to try to make things easier on her, but before I knew what I was doing, my instincts had taken over and all her warnings about safety had gone out the window. The same way, I knew if I brought up the subject, I might end up pushing for an actual honeymoon again. Try to convince her to at least consider trying.

I didn't want to do that to her. It wasn't that I thought she would ever, could ever hurt me—I couldn't see a real honeymoon going wrong, the way she was afraid it would. I thought she could afford to give herself more credit than she did. But at the same time, I hated the idea of pressuring her into doing something she obviously thought was too risky, even wrong. I didn't want to make her feel trapped, or intensify the guilt she already felt. Not having a real honeymoon was a sacrifice for more than just me, of that I was pretty sure—so if Edythe was willing to give it up to ensure my safety, it felt like the right thing to do to let her. Even if it was kind of a letdown.

"Yo, Dad," I called as I stepped in the house and kicked off my shoes. "I'm back."

Even though I was getting used to it, not having the television going when I got home still made the house feel oddly quiet. It was a moment before he answered, and he sounded distracted. "Oh, hey kid."

I poked my head into the living room. Today, he wasn't sitting on the couch, but on the recliner, staring at nothing.

"Hey, Dad," I said uncertainly. "Um, isn't there a game on today?"

He paused, staring back at me for a second. He blinked, as though he'd just realized where he was.

"Oh, yeah," he said. "I think so." He reached over the arm of the recliner like he would on the couch, where the remote was always stashed in the side pocket. Then he seemed to remember where he was sitting, and got up quickly, grumbling to himself as he went to sit in his usual place on the couch instead.

I hesitated. "Um, I guess I'll get started on dinner then. What do you think about steak? I already have some thawing in the fridge."

"Sounds good," he grunted, as he pulled out the remote.

I hesitated there a moment awkwardly, then started to turn back for the kitchen.

A second before he hit the power button, he called in a gruff voice he obviously meant to be casual, "Oh, hey there, Beau. Think you could come in here a second? I forgot, I wanted to talk to you."

I turned back. "Um, sure Dad." I entered the living room. After a second, I warily sank down on the edge of the recliner. "What is it?"

His eyes were on the blank television, but he forced himself to turn more toward me. However, his eyes stayed down.

"So," he said at last.

"So," I echoed.

He continued finally, "You're getting married in a few days."

"Guess so."

He finally looked up at me then. He seemed to consider a moment, then asked gruffly, "How do you feel about it?"

I shrugged. "Good, I guess."

"You guess?"

I shifted uncomfortably. Charlie wasn't usually the type to start these kinds of awkward conversations, so I wasn't used to them. But I guess he considered this an important enough occasion to press for more of a heart-to-heart.

I sighed deeply. "Look, Dad, you know how I feel about this. I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't want to."

He frowned, his eyes on the worn material of the couch again. "I know how you feel about her, kid. But how do you feel about getting married?"

I shrugged. "I thought we already had this conversation, Dad." It was true—almost as soon as Edythe was gone that day we'd made our announcement, he'd had quite a few questions. All kinds of awkward, touchy-feely, un-Charlie-esque type of questions.

He raised his gaze again and looked me in the eye. "I know. I just want to make sure you're sure. Are you getting married because you really want to get married, or because _she_ wants to get married? Because it might be better to brave Earnest's wrath than to do something you're really not ready for. Because getting married, and then things not working out—it leaves a pretty big mess behind."

While my dad and I didn't always see eye-to-eye on everything, I knew this was something he knew about first-hand. He'd never said anything, but there were moments that made me sure that, even all these years later, the split with my mom still hurt, even though they had been separated for over seventeen years now and hadn't even been married two.

I nodded slowly. And, maybe it was because his tone was so serious, I didn't feel quite so awkward as I answered with just as much solemnity, "I know, Dad. I'm not taking this lightly. I know it might seem like Edythe is driving this whole thing, but that's just because she's less stupid and not so embarrassed about saying all the corny stuff out loud—maybe because it doesn't sound corny when she says it. I mean it when I say that I want this just as much as she does. There's going to be a lot of changes, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous, but I'm ready for them. It's what I want."

Charlie was quiet for a long moment. Then at last, he nodded once. He held up the remote, and flipped on the TV then, and immediately the announcer started droning on about the score of some game. Charlie was looking at the screen, but as often was the case these days, he didn't seem to be really seeing it.

I left to go put the steaks on, then I went back and sat with Charlie to watch the game. I did my best to get interested in the players and the ebb and flow of the score, but my thoughts kept wandering. I kept glancing back toward my dad, feeling a knot in my stomach and a lump in my throat. Yeah, I could sacrifice having kids. I could even put off having a real honeymoon. But this was going to be the hardest part. Saying goodbye to my dad, to my mom. And would I even get to say goodbye? Probably not. They couldn't know that I knew that very soon I would...disappear.

I felt my throat burn as I stared at the screen. I found myself thinking of my mom, how excited she was. After not too much coaxing from Edythe, she'd become surprisingly involved with the wedding plans, and she and Edythe had spent hours on the phone getting everything squared away. I knew it was like a dream come true for her—the one regret she'd had about having a boy instead of a girl was that she'd had to resign herself to never having much of a part in an eventual wedding.

My mom had also found out not too long ago that she was pregnant—she wasn't showing yet, and it was way too soon to see if it was a boy or a girl, but apparently I had a little brother or sister on the way. I'd always wanted a little sister, not that I'd ever told anyone that.

I tried to force it all from my mind. I couldn't have both Edythe and my old human world. I had to choose one or the other, and I had already made my choice.

I concentrated on breathing deeply and evenly and, though I hadn't been allowed to see it yet, a mental image of Edythe in her wedding dress. I kept it firmly rooted in my mind, and tried not to think of the sacrifices.

* * *

A/N: And, there's the first chapter.

On the Beau Cullen reference—

A bit of an awkward thing with the gender-swap, on whose name gets changed and so on. The way I picture it, when Beau and Edythe get married, Edythe will take on Beau's name in the traditional way as far as Charlie and Beau's other human family/friends are concerned, but within the Cullen family, Beau will consider himself a Cullen and take on the Cullen name, just like Bella does.

Thanks so much for reading! It's been a long time in coming, and I can't even say how excited I am to finally be here. If you have a moment, let me know what you thought, and see you next time!

Posted 5/20/19


	3. Long Night

A/N: Back again! This one's always been one of my favorites of these early chapters to work on, for various reasons.

Hope you enjoy, and see you at the end! :J

* * *

Chapter 2: Long Night

"You'll have fun," Edythe murmured in my ear.

Sitting in my bed, Edythe's arms wound around me, her icy fingers caressing each of mine, running all the way up my arm and back, it was hard to imagine. Hard to imagine anywhere else I'd rather be.

"Maybe I can skip the bachelor party," I suggested.

She laughed as she pressed her lips to my jaw. "You could," she agreed. "If Archie would let you. But he won't—he's been looking forward to this like you wouldn't believe. And he's invited Allen, too. Go, you'll have a good time. Enjoy your last night of freedom to the fullest."

I snorted.

"Anyway," she added. "I'll be gone tonight anyway. I'm going hunting with Jessamine and Eleanor. Big game hunting. I want to be prepared as possible."

I frowned. "Prepared for what?"

She smiled a little. "Don't you think if a vampire and a human are going to have a honeymoon, it's better if the vampire is well-fed?"

I hesitated. "But I thought you said we wouldn't be having a real honeymoon until after I was...you know. Don't tell me you changed your mind." I worked to try to sound incredulous, rather than hopeful.

"Well, no, I haven't," she admitted. "But you didn't expect we'd be sitting around playing cards all night, did you?"

I shrugged, and turned my head toward the window—mainly because I didn't want her to see how red my face had suddenly gotten.

Edythe continued to trace my fingers, and she didn't appear to notice. "I still don't think it would be...safe," she said slowly. "But perhaps there will be some things that are safe to try."

Still trying to keep it nonchalant, I said, "I'm cool with that. Whatever you think, I'll follow your lead."

Edythe finally looked up from my hand, and she stifled a laugh.

My eyes shot back to her, and I felt my face automatically turning to a scowl. "What?" I demanded.

"Nothing," she assured me, but her eyes were still twinkling. "Just—you look a bit flushed. I hope you aren't coming down with a fever." She pressed a cold hand to my forehead.

"Leave me alone," I grumbled, ducking away from her. I didn't know why this topic still had the power to get the blood rushing to my face. It was totally dumb. It wasn't like we hadn't—sort of—discussed this before, plus I was getting married tomorrow. But I just couldn't seem to stop the reaction, no matter how much I tried. My reaction was way more embarrassing than the actual topic itself.

The phone in her pocket buzzed, and she sighed. "I bet that's Archie. Calling to remind us he's headed over here to pick you up."

"You think he saw us trying to sneak off together and avoid these whole bachelor-bachelorette party things?" I wondered.

Edythe grinned, wrapping her arms around my neck and pressing her icy lips to mine. She drew back barely an inch and the scent of her wintry breath in my face made me dizzy. "I think it's a definite possibility."

"Think it's too late to escape?" I breathed, leaning in close, wrapping an arm around her waist. She willingly leaned into me, sighing contentedly.

The sound of a loud honk outside made me jump.

"Sadly," she said, pulling away with a bit of a rueful smile, "I think it is."

Reluctantly, I dragged myself off the bed. I paused by the door. "Guess I won't see you until tomorrow."

Edythe sat on my bed, leaning back. "I suppose not."

"I'll miss you," I said.

She laughed. "Would it be sad to admit I'll miss you, too? All my nights away from you are long ones."

I grinned a little sheepishly. Then I turned away and flicked off the light—Edythe didn't need it, and no need for Charlie to notice it had been left on unnecessarily.

My hand was on the doorknob, ready to pull it open, when Edythe said softly, "Beau?"

I automatically turned back.

Even in the darkness, I saw her expression was different now. Anxious, worried.

"Yeah?" I said, a little uncertainly.

"Are you still...decided?" she asked quietly.

I stared back at her, surprised. "Course I am. Kind of late to be second-guessing ourselves now. It's tomorrow."

She shook her head. "I don't mean getting married. I mean...you. After."

I knew what she meant and for a second I hesitated. Then I said, very firmly, "Yeah. I am." Then, trying to lighten the mood, I added, "When else am I going to get my real honeymoon?"

Edythe didn't smile. She gazed back at me earnestly. "Is that all it is?" she said, so low I barely caught it. Her eyes never moved from mine. "Because..." she said slowly, hesitantly, "if that's it..." She took a breath. "If you didn't want to change after all, I...might be willing to try."

I felt a flare of fierce hope I quickly quashed. I looked at her, a little more serious now. I shook my head. "I was just joking. You know I want to be like you—I think after all we've been through, we both know by now that this isn't going to work any other way. I've just been a liability to you all this time. I don't want you to have to worry about me anymore, and honestly, I'll feel better too, when I'm not quite so breakable. When it's done, I think things will be easier. For both of us."

I added, "We don't need to rush, but I don't think we need to drag it out either. And we don't need to take unnecessary risks you don't feel comfortable with beforehand. Waiting a couple more weeks for our real honeymoon isn't going to hurt anything. I think we should just stick to the original plan."

Edythe gazed back at me, and a furrow formed between her eyebrows, a deep pain burning in her eyes. "You've been saying them," she whispered suddenly. "In your sleep. You say your parents' names. And also..." She hesitated.

I didn't know what to say. So I said with conviction, "I've already decided, Edythe."

Edythe stared back at me, and the pain didn't leave her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something.

Another insistent honk from down in the drive interrupted her.

"Beau!" I heard Charlie call from downstairs.

I opened the door to my room and called down, "Coming!" I glanced back at Edythe. "I better go," I said, making a face. "Before Archie comes up here to drag me off."

I turned my attention back to the exit. "Now relax, okay? Promise me you'll have fun tonight. I'm going to try too, but I won't if I think you're wasting time worrying."

Edythe didn't reply, but I was surprised when I suddenly felt her behind me, one hand touching mine, her cheek resting against my back. "I love you," she murmured. "Be safe."

"Love you, too," I mumbled. I adjusted my hand so I could wrap my fingers tightly around hers. As usual, my fingers stung and tingled with the chill. I turned my head, so I could press my lips lightly to her hair. I added, working to make my tone more upbeat, "Tomorrow's going to be one of the best days of our lives. Don't look so gloomy."

She tilted her head back to look up at me, and she was smiling a little again.

A third honk.

"Honestly, kid, what are you _doing _up there?" Charlie called, exasperated.

"Gotta go," I whispered and, leaning down to kiss her lightly on the lips, I pried myself away and forced myself out into the hall and down the stairs.

As I passed by the living room, Charlie asked, "What was that about? Hair and makeup still needed a few touchups?"

"Har har, Dad. You crack me up."

Charlie grinned at me over the back of the sofa. "Have fun, kid. Try not to get too wild."

I waved at him as I went, though I rolled my eyes. "I'll try. But don't bother waiting up."

"Don't stay up too late," Charlie called after me as I headed down the hall to the door. "Remember, tomorrow's your—" But by then I was already through the door, and it was securely shut behind me.

I breathed deeply. Though it had rained earlier, it was an almost balmy evening, especially for Forks. With the temperature it was now, I could have safely left my jacket inside, even though it was nearly dark out. But as always, I didn't want to jinx myself.

When I shut the door behind me and looked at the car parked along the curb, my mouth fell open.

Archie had the passenger window rolled down, and he called, "Hurry it up, dude! We don't have all night."

I didn't move right away. Still too busy gaping. Finally, I glanced back once at the house, then at the surrounding neighborhood to see if there was anyone close enough to see, then finally I cautiously approached, before slipping into the passenger seat.

"How do you like the ride?" Archie wanted to know, grinning.

I hadn't ever seen Archie drive his Porsche since Edythe had gotten it for him months ago, and definitely not in town. The Cullens tried to keep a low profile whenever they could, and the wasp-yellow Porsche with its black leather interior, tinted windows, and _Turbo_ printed on the back bumper definitely did not qualify as _low profile._ The only thing that had to be more conspicuous than the Porsche was the getup Archie was wearing—black leather jacket, and dark sunglasses perched on top of his head.

He grinned hugely at me, waiting eagerly for my response.

"Uh," I said. "It, uh...looks fast." In fact, I knew exactly how fast it was, from sitting in the passenger seat while Archie sped the same model what felt like halfway across Europe in the space of just a few hours, trying to beat the clock and stop Edythe from inciting the Volturi—the vampire government—to kill her.

"Doesn't just look fast," Archie said smugly. He reached up and put on the sunglasses, his mouth still split in a grin so wide I could see all of his bright white teeth in the semi-darkness of the heavily tinted car.

"Charlie didn't even mention anything," I said in disbelief, shaking my head.

Archie sighed. "He didn't even come to the window. I was thinking about going up to knock on the door, just so he'd have to see it, but—well, we're going to have a full night as it is, we can't afford to waste a second. This is the last night of your life to have fun, and you're going to want to enjoy every minute to the fullest."

He gestured to something on the back of my seat. "Well, before we go, you better go ahead and put that on. Kind of awkward to put it on while we're driving, since Edythe made me promise to make you wear a seatbelt." He sighed and shook his head, as if he couldn't imagine anything more unnecessary or interfering.

I turned halfway around, and saw for the first time that there was a leather jacket slung over the backseat—I hadn't noticed it, because it was the same color as the leather upholstery behind it. As I turned, I saw Allen sitting quietly in the backseat—and, I saw with dismay, already a victim of Archie's insanity. He was sitting awkwardly in a black leather jacket over his t-shirt, and a pair of dark sunglasses that did not suit him in the slightest.

"Your glasses are in the glove compartment," Archie said helpfully. "Extra dark. Ol' Joe Barboza's got nothing on these babies."

Joe Barboza was not a part of history I'd learned in school, but I knew enough about the old time mob to know the name. "You can't be serious."

Archie raised an eyebrow. "You gonna give me trouble about the program I got laid out?"

I held up the leather jacket, staring at it with eyes that still couldn't quite believe that it was really here, and intended for me to wear. "Uh, if it involves wearing black leather and sunglasses, yeah."

Archie leaned toward me, pulling his reflective sunglasses down so I could see his eyes over top of them. He glared at me with such an expression that he looked so much like a real gangster that I had to suppress the instinctive urge to shrink away, and put my hands up in the air in case he pulled a gun.

"Okay," Archie said. "This is what's going to happen. You're going to put on the jacket, and the sunglasses, and you're not going to complain. Got that?"

Without a word, I slid on the jacket over the jacket I was already wearing and, finding the glasses in the glove compartment as he said, put those on too.

Archie was all smiles again. "Great," he said cheerfully. "Now that that's settled, let's get going."

"Let's get this over with," I muttered. After I snapped my seat belt into place, he pulled away from the curb.

"Okay," Archie said, "here's the plan. We don't really have time to go all the way to Seattle or Olympia, but Port Angeles is close enough. There'll be enough there to keep us occupied."

Of course, Port Angeles was still pretty far, and it was already evening.

"Um," Allen spoke up nervously. "How late will we be getting back? My dad said he wants me back by midnight."

Archie sighed. "Allen, dude, tonight is all about defying authority—living life to the fullest without worrying about rules or people telling you not to do this or that. Better if you do break curfew, sends a clear message. 'You can't tell me what to do! I'm my own man!'"

Behind the sunglasses, Allen looked shocked.

I rolled my eyes. "Don't worry about it, Allen, we'll be back in plenty of time. With the way Archie drives, it'll take us twenty minutes to get there, and twenty minutes to get back."

Archie turned to me, appalled. "Twenty minutes? _Twenty minutes? _ Honestly, I thought you knew me better than that."

I shrugged. "Just a guess. When Edythe brought me back from Port Angeles that night—you remember, Allen—she took about twenty minutes to get back. And you and her both drive about the same—like maniacs."

Archie shook his head. "Twenty minutes. Wow. She must have _really_ wanted to draw out the time with you. Twenty minutes. Imagine."

Allen didn't look like he knew whether to take all this as a joke or not. I really hoped he didn't recount this conversation to his father, Reverend Weber. Or tomorrow Edythe might find herself called upon to confess all her driving sins—we'd probably be there all day.

I happened to glance down at the side mirror, and unfortunately caught sight of my reflection there. I looked about like I expected to look—like the biggest dork in all of history. If anything, the tough guy clothes only emphasized just how big a dork I was. I was a magnet for every actual tough guy on the block.

I shook my head. "So, where are we going anyway? I mean, what exactly are we doing in Port Angeles?"

Archie grinned. "Well, that part's up to you. But, I've got some suggestions if you're interested."

I sighed. "Let's hear them then."

"Bar," he said, face straight.

I didn't think he was serious, but I had to turn to look, just in case. I shook my head. "Uh, we can't drink. Allen and I aren't twenty-one." I paused. "Neither are you." Technically, in one sense at least, it was true.

Archie rolled his eyes. "You're really not getting this rebellion thing, are you? Okay then, if you're going to be that way, skip the drinks. Strip club."

A gasp escaped my mouth before I could stop it and I spun to glare at him.

"It's the classic bachelor party gig," he insisted. He paused. "That, or hiring a stripper."

I groaned, and pressed my fingers to my temples.

Archie sighed, shaking his head. "You're really not leaving me a lot of options here, you know."

I glowered at him. "Okay then, you can let Allen and I out now, and we'll walk back to Forks."

Archie slumped in defeat. "Fine," he muttered. "If you're going to be that way. So what about...pizza and a movie?"

"That sounds okay." However, I hesitated, suspicious. "_Not _a porno," I said vehemently.

Archie rolled his eyes. "There's only a couple things showing at that theater. We'll see what they are when we get there." As though Archie didn't already know exactly what was showing, and every single one of the show times, and which ones would start on time, and which ones would start late.

I knew Archie was just messing with me, but I could never seem to help rising to his bait. Sometimes I wondered if he just sat around for hours, looking at the possible futures if he said this or that around me, and chose the one that got the biggest rise.

Archie kept the talk going the entire ride over, which, as he'd claimed, turned out to be less than twenty minutes. Soon he was pulling up to the theater, and all three of us got out and went in to see what was showing, and at what times.

"So," Archie said, pretending to squint up at the times. "Looks like we have some chick flick—cute brunette gets a job at the local bakery, and runs into a hot guy who makes eyes at her. Any takers?"

He looked around at Allen and me, and we didn't respond. The worker at the concession stand was staring at us, and our bizarre attire. She didn't look so much intimidated as weirded out. Like she was trying to figure out if we thought it was Halloween.

Archie turned back to the board. "And then there's_ Black Gun_. Supposed to be like some kind of modern version of _The Godfather_."

I sighed. Archie was running this show, and it was obvious he wasn't going to be satisfied with a showing of anything less than the utmost manliness. "Fine," I said, "we can see that one. When's the next showing?"

We all looked up at the board again, and it seemed that the movie playing now had started about an hour ago, and the next one was in about an hour and a half. So Archie went and bought us the tickets, then we trooped out to go get something to eat.

I really didn't mind Archie's pick. Probably a lot of shooting and people dying all over the place, but I didn't really want to see the chick flick, either. It was stupid, but I still had kind of a negative feeling toward movies with any kind of romance, left over from my own personal dark ages, back when Edythe had left Forks. They just reminded me of that time, not least of all because the two of us had watched Romeo and Juliet earlier the same day everything had begun. I just had a bad association with them I couldn't seem to shake.

At the pizza place, Archie did most of the talking. However, I did get a little conversation in with Allen, and I was glad Archie had invited him along. It made me realize how few regular guy friends I actually had. Archie claimed he'd also invited Royal, but he wouldn't bend, for which I thanked my lucky stars.

We ended up leaving the pizza place later than we meant to when Archie got to chatting with the server about the greatest gangster movies, but with his insane driving, we got back to the theater early. As we headed through the doors—still in our leather jackets and sunglasses, as there was no point arguing with Archie once he had his mind set on something—I thought about how lucky I'd been so far, in that we hadn't run into anyone we recognized. I could only hope it held out.

"Beau? Is that _you_?"

I sighed. I always jinxed myself.

The sunglasses made it hard to see anything—I'd been keeping them on even indoors in hopes they might help conceal my identity—so I took them off, and spotted Jeremy and McKayla emerging from the last showing of _Black Gun_. After being broken up for most of the previous school year, apparently they'd gotten back together over the summer. I wondered how long it would last this time.

"Yeah, it's me," I said reluctantly as they approached.

Jeremy laughed aloud. After giving me the cold shoulder all last year, we'd kind of made up at graduation. "Dude, what are you _wearing_?" His eyes shifted to Allen.

"Bachelor party," Archie explained nonchalantly, though his grin was wide. He'd put his sunglasses up on his head again. He was the only one who honestly looked cool dressed up like this, the kind of guy a bunch of tough guys would trip all over themselves to follow. "It's gonna be a wild night."

McKayla glanced at me, and she forced a smile. "Congratulations," she said. "Though I guess I'll have the chance to tell you that tomorrow."

I'd been honestly surprised when I found out Edythe had put McKayla on the guest list. And Erica, and Taylor. Edythe was always polite and never made a big fuss, but Archie had cheerfully assured me that Edythe was definitely the jealous type, and there was probably a special place in her mind dedicated twenty-four-seven to despising McKayla and the rest of any of my would-be admirers. Edythe, for her part, had never denied it. But, Edythe had faithfully invited all our school friends, and without the least bit of malice that I could tell.

"Yeah," I said. "See you guys there." I paused, then added darkly, "If I survive tonight."

Jeremy grinned and waggled his eyebrows at me. "You going to a strip club after this?"

McKayla shot him an irritated look which he missed.

Archie sighed a martyr's sigh, and shook his head. "Unfortunately, Beau nixed the strip club idea."

McKayla smiled a little at me, a real smile this time.

"So," I said, eager to change the subject. "What did you think of the movie? That's the one we're seeing."

McKayla shrugged. "It was okay. Probably better than _Crosshairs_." She made a face. McKayla had been coming down with the flu at the time she'd seen that one, and I doubted she remembered all that much about it. All the same, saying something was better than _Crosshairs_ wasn't saying a whole lot. "Lots of action," she said. "Lots of pointless running around and shooting, but I guess there were one or two good moments."

"Don't listen to her, it was fantastic!" Jeremy enthused. "You'll love it."

Allen glanced at his watch. It was getting close to starting time.

"Well," McKayla said, "see you tomorrow, Beau. Have fun."

"Live it up," Jeremy added, grinning again and giving me the thumbs up.

I tried to return the grin, but didn't quite succeed. Instead the expression came off more like a wince.

The movie felt long. McKayla was right, it was better than _Crosshairs_, but, as I'd thought, that really wasn't saying much. Saying it was like a modern version of _The Godfather_ was kind of misleading—there were gangsters, but that was about the only connection.

In spite of the screaming and threats and general mayhem, before long I found my mind wandering back to Edythe, and how she had looked just before I'd left. Depressed. Guilty.

So, I'd been saying my parents' names in my sleep. Making her feel bad, as usual. And I didn't need to be a mind-reader to know what she had been about to say and stopped—the other name I'd been saying.

It didn't really surprise me I'd be saying Jules's name in my sleep, but not for the reasons I was afraid Edythe was likely to jump to. My heart wasn't split, the way it had felt before. It was Edythe I loved that way, had given my heart to, and would soon bind myself to in the most binding human way possible. Rather, I said her name for the same reason I said my parents' names. Because she was a part of the family of my human life, and even though I had absolutely decided on what my future would be—what I wanted it to be—the regrets for the coming loss still lingered.

I couldn't deny I wanted to see Jules again, at least one more time, before the change. We'd had so many seeming final goodbyes I'd lost track, but while I hoped that the last goodbye we'd had would have given her some closure on the question of the two of us ever being something more than friends, there was still one goodbye left to happen, that had yet to be resolved. The final severing of our friendship.

Jules had gone back and forth on where we would be after my change—from saying she'd rather see me dead to saying she'd protect me from her own sisters if they tried to take me down. But the truth was, even though I'd probably always see her as my friend, my family, I knew when the change happened most likely she wouldn't be able to stand the sight of me. It would just be too painful—to accept me, after I'd become something she so hated.

In my dreams, no matter how I tried to explain, to plead with her, she always looked at me with disgust and revulsion, and I knew if I was being realistic, that was likely soon to become the reality.

I accepted that sacrifice, hard as it was. I accepted that my once-best friend, who had saved me in one of my darkest times, would soon hate me. But that was why I wanted to see her one more time before the change. One more time, before I became something she wouldn't be able to see as anything but a monster.

I wondered if Edythe had invited her to our wedding, like she'd invited McKayla and the others. I knew I never would have if I were in charge of the guest list—it seemed too cruel, too callous. And yet, I realized I wouldn't be at all surprised if she had. Not to be cruel, but for my sake, because she probably would have known before I did that I would want her there. That sounded just like the kind of thing Edythe would do.

Of course, it was entirely selfish, to wish Jules would come to my wedding. Why should she be forced to put up the good friend facade when she was hurting? When _I_ had hurt her?

Yet, that selfish part of me couldn't help hoping for it anyway. That I would see her at least once more before I made the change, that all the people I cared about most would be there.

"Hey, guys? It's over. Should we go?"

I glanced back to see Allen peering over at us. I blinked, and I realized indeed that the credits were rolling. I shook my head. "Yeah, let's go. Archie?"

As I turned and put a hand on Archie's shoulder, I froze. He was staring at the screen with wide eyes, his expression blank. I knew that look.

He suddenly blinked, and came back to life, shaking his head. He looked at me, and he was immediately himself again. "Well, time to go," he said with a grin. "Got a full night ahead of us, no time to waste." He got up and went on ahead, tossing the extra-large, almost untouched bucket of popcorn in the trash on the way out.

"So, what did you think?" Archie asked, grinning as we headed out toward the Porsche.

"Um," I said, too distracted by what I'd seen in Archie's face there at the end to be able to recall a single detail of the film.

Maybe Allen wasn't too anxious to give his true opinion on the movie, because he pulled a little ahead of us, leaving me to be the only target for Archie's questions. I, in turn, placed a hand on Archie's arm to slow us, until Allen had pulled a fair ways ahead.

"Hey," I said, in a very low voice. "What did you see? There, at the end."

"Nothing," he said, shrugging.

I glared at him. "Look," I said in a lower voice still. "You lying to me is definitely going to put more of a damper on my bachelor party than if you just give it to me straight."

Archie turned so his gaze met mine, and his eyes were troubled. "I mean it. I didn't see anything—that's the thing."

I stared back at him uncertainly.

He sighed, then said in a low voice, "You know how Edythe's been having me keep an eye on Sulpicia? Like Edythe said, we know from our little meeting in the clearing that Sulpicia told them to hold back on purpose—let us deal with Victor, and only come see us after the fight was over. Sulpicia told them it was because they shouldn't risk themselves if they didn't have to, not when they were in the middle of a crisis, but considering Jonathan and Alexa probably could have taken out twenty vampires no problem on their own, Tacita sort of thought there must be some other reason.

"Now, last I checked, Sulpicia and the other two ancient ones split up and evacuated Volterra—it seems like they're all taking refuge from whatever's going down in Europe. But since Sulpicia came here to the United States, it's made Edythe pretty edgy."

I nodded. Edythe and Archie had told me this when it happened—the Volturi leaving Volterra, and Sulpicia taking up somewhere in the States. The Volturi evidently felt threatened enough by what was going on they felt they had to go, but Archie hadn't been able to see much more than that. "Yeah?" I said.

Archie's face was grim. "Well—about an hour ago my vision of Sulpicia just disappeared completely. Like, totally gone. I've been concentrating, trying to get it back, but I can't see a thing."

My eyebrows came down, and I stared back at him. "What does that mean?" I asked in a low voice. "How can that happen?"

Archie shook his head. "The only times I've seen futures disappear like that have been with the wolves. Like, when you're around Julie Black. My only guess is that either Sulpicia's got a new member of her guard, someone who's got some kind of shield that can block me out, or that she's met up with some creature of the same kind as the wolves down here. I mean, chances are, the Quileutes' powers aren't unique. There are probably others out there like them. Maybe Sulpicia is keeping one as a pet. Or maybe she's found a whole group of them to team up with, in hopes they might help them deal with the problem back in Europe, just like we did with Victor."

I considered that. "Sounds like she's too busy to be worrying about me anyway. Maybe you don't really need to be watching her."

Archie nodded. "Yeah, I'm not too wound up over it. I'm more worried about Edy's reaction. She's not going to like this. You know how paranoid she gets."

I smiled a little. I did know that.

Allen had noticed we'd fallen behind, and he paused to look back.

Archie grinned broadly. "Well, that was fun. So, where are we headed next, Beau-man?"

In fact, I had been planning, after the movie, to say I'd done my time and call it an early night—I _was _getting married tomorrow after all—but my thoughts from in the theater kept bouncing around in my head, and now I had Sulpicia to think about, too. And if I went home now, I knew I'd probably just end up lying awake in bed, thinking about it.

"How about bowling?" I suggested. The idea came to me randomly, but I realized it sounded good. All that noise, balls smacking into pins. And maybe after I'd dropped the ball on my toes a few times, the pain would effectively shut out all other thought.

"Bowling it is," Archie said, flashing his signature wide grin in the darkness.

Of course, Archie kicked our butts, scoring a perfect three-hundred—people all over the rally came over to take his picture, while Allen and I huddled on the bench in our leather jackets, trying not to attract attention. The bowling alley also had a few video game stations in the back corner, and Archie forced us to play every single one of them, including a big DDR machine—a girl whose boyfriend was too embarrassed to play with her asked to play a few rounds with us, and got all excited when Archie told her I was getting married tomorrow. She was pretty good, but she quit when I nearly took out her eye. Only Archie saved me from getting clobbered by the boyfriend.

As promised, Archie got us back into town before midnight, and dropped us off at our houses. We were both eager to shed the leather jackets, and I doubted either of us would be very sorry if we never saw them again.

I was exhausted as I headed up to bed. For a minute I entertained the irrational hope that Edythe would be there, waiting for me, but of course, I found my dark room empty. In a fog, I got ready for bed, changing into my pajamas and brushing my teeth, before I flopped down on the mattress.

I expected to go to sleep right away, but almost as soon as I flipped off the light, thoughts of tomorrow I'd been temporarily distracted from started up in my mind again, going around and around, until I was wide awake.

For some reason, my fairly brief glimpse at Edythe's guest list kept coming back to me. Maybe it was because, even though I knew Edythe had tried to keep the number down for my sake—the bigger it was, the proportionally more terrified I felt at the thought of it—there were still quite a few people coming. All of our school friends for a start, and their parents, and, in some cases, _their _parents. But it wasn't so much that which had me worried as the non-human guests.

Tanvir's family, a coven of vampires who, like Carine and the Cullens, had sworn off human blood, would be coming down from Denali, set to arrive sometime before the ceremony.

First off, putting the Denali clan in the same room as our guests from the Quileute reservation might be more than a little uncomfortable, to put it mildly. Not too long ago, the Denalis had refused to help the Cullens in their hour of need, mainly because the wolves had killed Lauren, one of the clan's mate. In fact, Ivan wasn't even coming down. Edythe had assured me that Tanvir and the rest of the Denalis felt terrible for abandoning them the way they had, and there would be no danger of any fights breaking out. However, the whole thing still left me nervous.

On a lesser scale, there was also the little side note of Tanvir apparently having kind of had a thing for Edythe at one time. I knew he probably had movie-star good looks, and even though Edythe had, inconceivable as it was, absolutely chosen me, that still made me a bit uncomfortable.

But the Denalis were the closest thing the Cullens had to family and vice versa, and I wasn't about to voice any complaints. Especially hearing the way Edythe talked about them.

"_It was such a wonderful thing for Carine, and the rest of us, to discover others who had also chosen this same way of life,"_ she had said. She had added softly, _"For them as well—they still feel like orphans, even after all this time."_

Tanvir had a fairly big family, almost as big as the Cullens. For a long time, it had been composed of just three brothers—Tanvir, Kirill, and Ivan, though later on they were joined by a Spanish couple, Elena and Carlos, the same way the Cullens had been joined by Archie and Jessamine. All bonded by a desire to live more compassionately than most of their kind.

However, long before Carlos and Elena had joined up, there had been more members of their family, including their creator. Their father, mentor, leader. Now gone. When I compared the loss to the Cullens potentially losing Carine, who had always been their anchor, the compass to guide them all to a kinder way of living, the horror seemed indescribable.

I'd been spending a lot of late nights at the Cullen home recently, listening to Carine tell me all I would need to know about the world I'd soon be entering. So Carine had told me all they knew of the Denalis' story. What could happen when the laws were broken.

Immortality came with a lot of powers, but there were rules that came along with it. _Keep the secret_—that was the single thing that pretty much all the many laws came down to, enforced by Sulpicia and the Volturi. It meant never staying in one place too long, never allowing humans to suspect they had neighbors who weren't aging. It meant not stepping into the sunlight in front of a human, or letting humans see signs of super strength or speed. But it was more than that—because, as an immortal, you weren't just responsible for yourself, you were also responsible for anything you might create. In creating another immortal, the creator had to keep them under control.

There were three brothers now, all created by one vampire, but there had originally been four.

"I do not know their names," Carine had admitted. "Neither their father, nor their last and youngest brother. Tanvir and the others rarely speak of them if they can avoid it, never think of them willingly.

"Their father was extraordinarily gentle for one of our kind, and he loved all his creations as his sons, and taught them all to live in peace with others. But while Tanvir, Kirill, and Ivan were happy with their father's gentler way of life, his fourth son was not satisfied.

"As the boy wandered further and further out on his hunting trips, he eventually stumbled across a gang of like-minded rebels, who despised the order and peace of the Volturi's world, and longed to return to the days of old, when immortals could wander and eat what they chose with impunity. The boy soon joined their ranks, and continued to see them often in secret, to aid in their plans to overthrow the Volturi.

"In most periods of history, finding so many dissenters would have been rare. However, at that time, what is now known as the purging of the immortal children had only just taken place. Centuries before it had become a practice to change infants into immortals—creatures beautiful beyond comprehension—which Sulpicia outlawed, for the simple fact that such creations could never be controlled, with their frozen cognitive development. It became taboo, unmentionable. However, there had been an outbreak of the practice once again, and Sulpicia had taken steps to wipe them all out, as well as their perpetrators.

"For those who had laid eyes on the face of an immortal child just once, even the thought of their destruction was enough to inspire violent fury. And these older vampires, in turn, fostered the desire for anarchy among younger vampires, by way of vengeance.

"Naturally, the father noticed his youngest son's extended absences and, concerned for him, followed him, and discovered his activities. He begged his son to cease the madness, but the boy refused. So he let the boy be, and did not tell his other sons.

"Of course, Sulpicia's network of spies had her entirely aware of what was going on, and she decided to dispatch her guard to wipe out the many pockets of resistance. However, Sulpicia did not want the Volturi to be seen as tyrants bent on needless, brutal violence, and she personally joined the forces, setting up trials for the covens before they were executed, touching each member with her own hand to determine who were guilty and who were innocent. And so, as one treacherous coven after another was burned from the face of the earth and trembling terror of the Volturi once again restored, the Volturi's fairness in its judgments remained acknowledged and respected.

"Inevitably, Sulpicia's forces made their way to the part of the country the fourth son and his gang of anarchist friends resided, and she ordered their destruction, though not before touching each one to determine his thoughts. Upon touching the fourth son, she discovered the father's knowledge—that he had known, but not acted, and thereby committed treason.

"Sulpicia did not execute the son right away, and instead led her forces to where the father and his other sons currently resided. According to the law, he was to be executed as well, along with any others involved who knew but did nothing. However, Sulpicia, having seen in the son's mind the father's truly kind and gentle way, offered to pardon him if he now took responsibility for what he had created—destroy it by his own hand, and vow that he would never again fail to perform his duty in service to the greater good.

"The father who, as far as any of them knew, had never before slain another one of his kind, approached his son, held as he was in the grips of Sulpicia's guards. He raised his hand—and, instead of destroying his son, struck down his son's first guard.

"He never got to the second, as Sulpicia's forces executed him and his son instantly. Having already touched Tanvir and his brothers, Sulpicia knew them to be entirely innocent, and she and her forces left them unharmed.

"Tanvir and his brothers understood their father's choice, I think. But his choice to die, to abandon them on account of a brother who had already betrayed them—I don't know if they ever truly forgave him. They live on now, never forgetting the importance of upholding the laws, of taking responsibility for a wayward creation..."

The memory of Carine's voice blurred and faded. And at last, I finally drifted off into unconsciousness.

However, even asleep, my restless mind continued to work.

I found myself standing in a broad field. Miles of dead grass stretched out before me, and just on the horizon, I could make out clouds of billowing black smoke—the smell of a thick incense lingered on the air, heavy and suffocating.

As I slowly turned my head, figures in heavy dark cloaks seemed to appear from nowhere, all standing at attention around where I knelt on the ground. I felt hard, cold hands on my shoulders.

I lifted my head to follow their disciplined gazes, and my eyes fell on a single slender figure, dressed in a long cloak as black as night. The figure drew back the deep hood, and long, shimmering locks of dark hair spilled out. Deep red eyes filmed over in an ancient mist came to rest on me. Sulpicia.

Sulpicia stood before the crowd around me just in front of a misshapen hill, flanked on either side by her usual guards, her head high and back straight as a Roman general. Her eyes lingered on me a moment longer, before her gaze suddenly shifted to something else, something obscured from my view by the heavy cloaks of the figures beside me.

"You must see," Sulpicia said, voice soft but clear, "that what you have created is a monster. You have done great wrong, inflicted much misery on many. However, if you admit to your grave error, and correct it, I will pardon you. All I ask is that you destroy what you created."

One of those standing near me shifted, the cloak moving aside like the drawing back of a curtain. And suddenly I saw who Sulpicia was speaking to. Her long bronze hair hung at her back, her ivory skin seeming to glow in the firelight of the burning battlefield. A guard stood on either side of her, and her expression was impossible to read as she gazed up at Sulpicia.

At last, she slowly turned her deep, familiar golden eyes on me.

I opened my mouth to speak—but it wasn't my voice that came out. The voice rang like music, as though from a being descended straight from heaven.

"Edythe," I whispered softly.

Edythe's thoughts were impossible to discern behind the mask of her expressionless features. I couldn't hold her gaze, and my eyes fell away, first falling on the distant battlefield, then drawn irresistibly back to Sulpicia. As I stared, my head slightly bowed, my eyes refocused on the mound just behind her—and I felt myself freeze where I knelt.

What I had taken for simply a small hill I saw now was a mound of corpses—not those of vampires, as I knew lay strewn about the field in the distance, but humans. Humans I knew.

They seemed to stare back at me—the empty faces of all my friends, Allen, Becca, Jeremy, McKayla... And, as my eyes finally dropped to the mound's very base, I saw, directly behind where the hem of Sulpicia's black cloak brushed the barren ground, the broken bodies of my mother and father.

A choked sound escaped my mouth, still that strange mix of silk and music, as horror churned through my stomach and up into my lungs like poison. I couldn't think, couldn't breathe. At long last, I slowly raised my eyes to Sulpicia, standing with the pile of mutilated bodies at her back. I stared at her, as the questions tore through my lightning-quick mind. Had _she_ done this? Had she ordered this unimaginable atrocity?

Sulpicia's dark, misty eyes once again flickered toward me, and as my gaze dropped to her pale hands folded in front of her, I saw they were perfectly clean. My eyes jumped to those of her guards beside her, then to the other soldiers standing around her. But their hands were clean, too.

At long last, my gaze dropped, down to the ground just in front of where I knelt. I lifted my own hands, to stare at my palms. They glittered slightly in the faint, fading sunlight, like a thousand tiny diamonds. They were unfamiliar hands, beautiful, flawless and strong.

And covered in blood.

Numbly, I raised my eyes back to Edythe.

She had turned, and was approaching me now. She came to a stop barely a few feet from where I knelt, still gripped in place by my dark-cloaked guards. For a moment, she simply gazed down at me with sad, golden eyes. I could see myself reflected in them—my own eyes so unlike hers, the bright crimson of freshly spilled blood. She raised one delicate hand, and for a moment her eyes, never once moving from mine, hardened. And I saw there what she was about to do.

I opened my mouth to shout, to plea. But the words didn't come.

My bloody hands gripped the grass beneath me, staining it red, as the first guard standing beside me fell.

* * *

A/N: And on that note...

A lot of different things from the original chapter this time around, though at this point still following the same basic structure. (I had so many issues trying to cut down Carine's story about the Denalis there at the end to fit the chapter's natural flow, but I'm not sure I quite succeeded.) Not sure if any of you out there might have been hoping for Archie to force on Beau a bit of a wilder bachelor party, lol, but I figured Archie probably would have seen Beau is capable of being as stubborn and/or potentially ballistic as Bella if he puts his mind to it. (Beau's a pretty easygoing guy most of the time, but there are some battles with Beau that are just not winnable.)

In other news, I also recently answered some interview questions on Twi Fandom News. Feel free to take a look if you're interested (just google 'Twi Fandom News'), and it's also just a great place to find other Twilight-related news and fanfiction recommendations. (The article was done by Jadiona, who you might recognize as another Life and Death author here on the site. If you're looking for more Reimagined fics, you might want to check out her versions of New Moon and Eclipse—which, rather than changing the Life and Death ending, begin with Beau as a vampire. When I first read Life and Death, the resolution seemed so thorough I didn't see where else the story might go and still stay interesting, but these stories with their sometimes edgier take on the characters definitely changed my mind.)

Thanks so much for reading! If you have a moment, let me know what you thought, and hope to see you next time! :J

Posted 6/17/19


	4. The Wedding

A/N: Back again. This was a bit of a tough chapter for me, for a lot of reasons—but I guess I always say that, lol.

Thanks so much for reading so far, and see you at the end! :J

* * *

Chapter 3: The Wedding

I jerked where I lay and sat bolt upright. For a minute I sat in the darkness, panting, until at last I slowly laid back down, drawing the sheets back up.

Just a dream. A sick, stupid dream.

Without Edythe, my bed was warmer than usual, but still I shivered. What a dream to have, today of all days. But, that was my brain for you—it loved nothing more than to throw a bunch of meaningless details together and spit them back out at me in the most disturbing way possible. Sometimes it was downright diabolical.

Too keyed up to have any hope of getting back to sleep, I rolled out of bed and took a quick shower, quickly getting dressed and heading on downstairs. It was still early, but I wanted to be away from my room, and all lingering thoughts of the nightmare, which kept playing in bits and pieces through the back of my mind.

Having no clue what to do with myself, I did a bit of cleaning in the kitchen, scrubbing down all the counters and sink, though they were all already spotless. When it got late enough, I started in making breakfast, and when Charlie came down he found a stack of pancakes and a pan of eggs waiting for him.

"How was last night?" he asked, as he speared a couple of pancakes onto his plate, and slathered them liberally with maple syrup.

I took a pancake too, though I had no idea if I was going to be able to eat it. I shrugged. "Oh, you know. We went to a few night clubs. Lots of women, lots of drinks. I drank until I passed out. Just your usual night of debauchery before I'm tied down for life."

Charlie chuckled a little as he spooned out some eggs. "What did you really do?"

I started in cutting up my pancake. "Went to see a movie in Port Angeles. Then we went bowling for awhile. Nearly killed someone playing DDR. You might have had to come and arrest me, and we would have had to have a jail wedding."

Charlie grinned. "Bet Edythe would have loved that."

In fact, I had a sneaking suspicion Edythe wouldn't mind. She'd probably say it would make the event more memorable. Or, more likely, she'd just post my bond. Or bribe the judge. Edythe rarely met a problem she couldn't solve.

"So what are you going to do this morning until Archie gets here?"

Archie was coming later to pick me up and take me back to the house, so he could help me get my hair gelled and ready. But that wasn't going to take too long, and as the ceremony wasn't going to be until the afternoon, he wouldn't be coming by until later. Archie would be spending at least a little of the morning doing Edythe's makeup and hair.

"Jessamine and Eleanor just don't understand the fine art of facial enhancement," he had told me, shaking his head sadly. "They might know some of the basics, but the concept of _layering _is beyond them. Shame, really."

"What, you're some kind of stylist now?" I had asked, though really I was wondering how on earth Archie planned to enhance Edythe's face. There had to be a finite limit to beauty, and Edythe had, far as I was concerned, already reached it.

Archie had tapped his nose mysteriously. "There are a lot of things you don't know about me, dude."

I wouldn't be surprised if this was the first time in history where the best man did the bride's makeup.

I hesitated, considering Charlie's question. What _was_ I going to do with myself until Archie got here? Charlie had taken the day off for the wedding, so chances were, he was going to be hanging around the house, nervous as I was. If I stayed here, that sounded like it was going to be an awkward morning. I almost wished I was the one getting made up—at least it would give me something to do. And when it came down to it, I could probably use it more than Edythe.

"Um, I'm going to go upstairs."

He raised an eyebrow. "And do what?"

"Probably have a meltdown," I admitted. I added in a dark undertone, "She offered me Vegas. I should have taken it when I had the chance."

Charlie grinned. "And denied your mother all the fun? I think the last two days have been some of the best of her life."

It was true. My mom had flown in two days ago, and she'd been having an absolute blast helping Edythe and her sisters with the preparations. Earnest, of course, was overseeing the arrangement of the décor and, given that my mom had gone through an interior design craze a few years back, they had quite a bit to talk about.

"When are you supposed to be picking up Allen's dad again?" I asked, nervous.

"Edythe said three o'clock," he answered.

I nodded. "Okay. Right."

Charlie eyed me warily, like he thought I might really be on the verge of some kind of panic attack. It was stupid, all the attention and formality was only going to be for a few hours, and I'd had months to mentally prepare myself for it—except, I knew I hadn't really used the time to prepare, I'd just kind of tried not to think about that part.

"Well," Charlie said at last. "I'll be in the living room if you need anything." He got up and left his plate by the sink, going in to watch some sports. He didn't know what else to do with himself either.

I sat at the table a minute longer, concentrating on breathing deeply. _Edythe,_ I reminded myself. This was for Edythe.

I got up, tossing out the uneaten pancake and washing the few dishes slowly, before I headed on up to my room. I knew I should do something to try to relax, but I found myself going over to my closet, and pulling out the tuxedo Archie had picked out for me. I carefully unzipped the bag and inspected the material for wrinkles I might need to iron out, but of course, it was flawless. I hadn't asked how much the thing had cost, but I suspected the suit was designer. I wouldn't have been surprised if Charlie would have had to mortgage the house to afford one of these.

I put the suit back carefully in my closet, and paced the length of my room, unable to sit still. My thoughts raced.

I wished I had someone I could call to talk to, even just for a few minutes. It might have soothed my agitation. But pretty much everyone I would have wanted to—Archie, my mom, Edythe—were all involved with the wedding. My mom was probably with Phil at the hotel now, bustling around, getting herself made up and trying to remember anything she might have forgotten. I smiled a little at the thought, then shook my head. I hoped Phil was remembering to tell her to take it easy. Or my new little brother or sister was going to come out just as much a worrier as I was.

Of course, I knew who most of all could have calmed me down and had me laughing and relaxed in about three seconds flat. However, I quickly shook my head—that was just me, being completely self-absorbed again.

I wondered idly where Jules might be now. If, wherever she was, she was all right.

I quickly shook my head. I didn't know why I kept obsessing about this—I knew Jules could take care of herself. If Jules was here, she probably would have laughed and told me I was totally acting like a paranoid mom. She probably would have given me lady points for it, too.

Trying to take my mind off—well, just about everything I was worrying about, which was about everything—I went and sat down on the edge of my bed, picking up the top book from the stack of books I always kept by my nightstand on the way. I used to read a lot, but over the past few months, I really hadn't all that much. When almost every spare minute was spent with Edythe, I didn't really have the time, or the inclination.

I opened the book up to a random page, and my eyes went over the lines a few times before I realized the book I'd grabbed was _Frankenstein_.

I sighed. And, there was a reminder of something else I particularly didn't want to be thinking about right now.

As my dream last night had so blatantly told me, when it came to my change from human to vampire, I was anxious about more than just most likely not being able to see the people I knew again. A part of me wasn't sure I would still be myself. And from our conversation over Frankenstein, I knew a part of Edythe harbored the same fear. I wasn't sure if she was afraid of being Dr. Frankenstein—the creator of a monster—or if she looked at herself as the monster Frankenstein created, wanting the doctor to create another monster as a mate, a companion. Maybe she saw herself as some fusion of the two.

Either way, she seemed to think there was a possibility that, when I woke up, I wouldn't be the same. Maybe I'd hate what I'd become, or regret everything...or run off. As always with Edythe, I couldn't be sure whether this was a legitimate fear, or if it was what Archie dubbed her manic, overcautious paranoia.

I knew exactly what I wanted right now. I wanted to live out the rest of my existence with Edythe, and I wanted to be a part of her family, a good vampire like the rest of them. But would that desire change when I turned? Would I become a monster that only cared about blood? I wanted to believe that I would still be the same person fundamentally, but I couldn't know that for sure. For all I knew, the me of now would completely cease to exist—maybe the wants of my new self would be so different from who I was now, perhaps he wouldn't feel obligated to live out what I wanted.

Images from the dream played through my mind again, my hands covered in blood, a pile of corpses. I shuddered.

I quickly tossed _Frankenstein_ back on the floor, and picked up another book from the stack.

I was still edgy all morning, and I was relieved when I had to go downstairs and make some lunch for Charlie. This time I didn't bother even trying to put out anything for myself.

"You look a bit green," Charlie noted, eying me. "You sure you're going to be all right?"

"Yeah," I said. "Great. Amazing."

The forced enthusiasm in my voice would have been enough to set anyone's teeth on edge, but he only shrugged. "Well, I'm going to go ahead and get dressed after this." Charlie muttered something indistinct under his breath—Archie had gotten him a custom-designer suit for the occasion, like mine. Getting Charlie to submit to getting the measurements had been a bit of an ordeal, but of course, I thought Archie could talk just about anyone into agreeing to anything if he set his mind to it.

Charlie grumbled about the suit even now, that it was way too fancy and completely wasted on him, but everyone who had seen him in it at the rehearsal couldn't help but comment just how good he looked. Of course, I figured that probably only agitated him even more—he was about as happy about his new suit as I was about my new car. The two of us were so similar sometimes it was a little scary.

"Yeah, me too," I said, glancing at the clock. I knew Edythe had made sure I wouldn't have to do anything on purpose for my sake, and that for me to be anywhere near the likely hustle and bustle going on at the Cullen house now was not likely to result in anything good, but still I felt having _something _to do surely had to be better than this.

I tapped a finger against the table for a minute before I asked, "Hey, do you remember who's supposed to be getting my mom and Phil?"

"I'm sure Edythe has that taken care of."

"Yeah," I said, settling back in my chair from where I'd half moved to get up. "Yeah, I'm sure she does." I paused, then added, "What about Bonnie? Does she have someone to take her?"

"I think she's just coming early with Sarah and Saul Clearwater. It's only half an hour or so that Sarah has to be there ahead of time. Good to see Edythe getting along with some of the girls on the reservation, think Sarah was happy to be included."

"Yeah," I said, nodding. "Sarah and Edythe have really become pretty good friends." I was quiet another minute before I began, "What about—"

Charlie growled a sigh. "I'm going to go get dressed. You're making me nervous, kid. Quit worrying, I'm sure Edythe has it all planned out to the letter."

"Okay," I muttered as he clumped out of the kitchen. I took a deep, steadying breath. Everything was going to be fine. He was right, Edythe would have everything taken care of, and probably more besides. Nothing to be anxious about. I just had to show up and say, _I do. _ Compared to some of the stuff I'd been through—tortured by a crazy vampire and coming face-to-face with another one out for revenge—it wasn't such a big deal.

I kept telling myself that.

* * *

"Look in the mirror."

I frowned. "Uh, Archie, I really don't know if that's a good idea."

He sighed dramatically. "Come on, not even for your best man?"

I grumbled a bit in defeat, then turned to glance at the full length mirror Archie had dragged in. Archie had transformed his room into what looked like one of those dressing rooms that movie stars used. Apparently he'd had Edythe in here earlier, and he assured me he'd done a masterwork—which made me a bit scared to see her, honestly. The idea that Archie had somehow made her _more_ beautiful than she normally was was a bit frightening—and potentially dangerous to my health, and that of everyone in the room. Her dimpled smile alone was weapon enough, and I sometimes privately thought it ought to have a safety on it.

I was a little startled by the guy I saw in the mirror. For a second, I didn't recognize him.

I looked...not like I was a match for Edythe, Archie would have had to do an entire face replacement and maybe have me working out at the gym for a few months to even get into the ballpark there, but I didn't quite look like the dweeb I usually did. As long as I didn't move or talk, I sort of imagined that a company president somewhere wouldn't have been totally ashamed to claim me as a son. Strange how expensive, designer clothes and a hairstyle that looked professionally done could make such a difference.

"See," Archie said smugly with a grin. "Aren't you glad you didn't sneak off to Vegas? The look on Edythe's face when she sees you... I'll have to try to get a picture."

"She'll probably laugh," I said, frowning a little at the kind of cool stranger looking back at me from the mirror. "Or she'll think I'm some imposter, and the groom's laying knocked out somewhere in the backroom."

He laughed. "Come on. Jess just arrived with your mom and Phil, and your mom's on her way up to see you. And Charlie's gonna be coming with Reverend Weber a few minutes after that. Get your head in gear. This is happening."

I swallowed. He didn't have to remind me.

It was barely a minute before I heard the light footfalls as someone hurried up the steps, and a moment later there came a knock on the door.

"Beau? Honey, are you there?"

"Yeah, Mom," I called back. "We're here. We're coming out."

We met her out in the hallway, and the moment she saw me, her entire face lit up. She put a hand to my cheek. "Oh, honey, you look so dashing. I can't believe the day is already here—it's just all gone by so fast." She suddenly sniffed and dabbed at her eyes.

"Come on, Mom," I muttered, embarrassed. "Don't cry, you'll smear your makeup."

She sniffed again, then nodded. "I'm so happy for you, sweetheart. I missed you so much when you came to Forks, but I'm so glad you came now. I'm happy you met someone as wonderful as Edythe. I was worried before, when you never dated, I worried that you'd never..." She sniffed again.

I sighed and put an arm lightly around her shoulders. "I was always fine, I just hadn't met the right girl yet." I added, "Try not to get worked up, Mom, you know it's not good for..." I gestured toward her stomach.

She nodded, and her mouth split into another wide smile. "You and Edythe will have to come see us when she's born. I know she's going to absolutely adore her big brother."

I paused, surprised. "I thought you didn't know if it was a boy or a girl yet."

She waved this away. "Well, no, we don't know yet _technically._ But like I've told Phil, I have a feeling. I know how you always wanted a little sister."

I blinked, taken aback. But, my mom had always been startlingly perceptive—especially at moments when I was least expecting it.

Of course, I wasn't going to be seeing my little sister. Because by the time she was born, I might want to kill her.

I felt a lump form in my throat. "Sure, Mom," I said, and my voice came out raw and hoarse.

My mom saw my face as I blinked rapidly, and she threw her arms around my neck. "Oh, honey," she sighed. "I'm so happy for you. You're going to be so happy, you won't know what to do."

I wrapped my arms around her tightly in return. "I know," I said, and my voice was steadier this time—because I knew she was right.

As she pulled back, there came a cough from the edge of the stairs, and we both turned to see Charlie standing there, wearing that kind of gruff expression he always had when he was feeling awkward or uncomfortable. "Renée," he muttered. "The others said it was about time we got downstairs and settled in..."

Back at the rehearsal, my mom had been in such a haze of excitement she hadn't had time to notice much of anything outside Edythe and me, and so now she took in my dad in the suit Archie had foisted on him for the first time.

"Charlie!" she exclaimed, eyes wide with such obvious shock that it bordered on insulting. "You look so handsome!"

Charlie picked uncomfortably at his sleeve, looking surly. "These people," he muttered. "They live in a different world from us. They don't wear the same clothes."

My mom recovered, and gave me a smile. "They do have good taste, don't they?" she said admiringly.

"Okay," Archie said, cutting in and putting a hand on my shoulder. "It's time for the two of us to get down there." He turned back to my parents. "You two will meet up with Carine and you'll be going in after us."

Charlie nodded, and I could see him trying not to look apprehensive at all the formalities.

We walked to the head of the staircase, and paused there. I heard music begin down below—Pachelbel's Canon. I knew Royal, easily the best musician in the family besides Edythe, was at the piano.

"Ready, man?" Archie murmured, gripping my shoulder.

I sucked in a deep breath, then slowly let it out again. "As ready as I'm ever going to be."

He grinned. "That's the spirit."

We descended to the room below. I'd already seen what Edythe had done with the main room of the Cullen house—but now that the guests were here, it all seemed to come to life in a completely new way.

White blossoms had been draped in garlands along the banister and all throughout the room, gossamer white ribbons streaming beneath them like tiny glittering waterfalls. Rows of satin-draped seats had been set up on either side of a long aisle lined with still more flowers—all focusing to point at a delicate white arch at the front.

Everything was of the finest quality, but nothing felt the least overdone or extravagant. It was, in every way, tastefully simple, elegant.

I went slowly, concentrating on not tripping over my own two feet as Archie and I made our way down the aisle. Royal was sitting at Edythe's piano, looking like a musical virtuoso in his white suit and perfectly styled blond hair—the kind of guy who stole brides at weddings. The many guests watched us as we entered, but besides my cursory glance at the beginning, I didn't turn to look, just concentrated on my feet.

I came to a stop at the altar. Allen's dad was already there, waiting, the book open in front of him from which he would read our vows. Archie came to stand at my elbow, and I slowly turned around. I didn't look at the crowd, but instead focused my gaze on the spot at the top of the stairs, where she would appear. I stood there, tense, stiff as a board.

"Relax," Archie murmured, too low for anyone else to hear.

I saw my mom enter first with Phil. She beamed hugely at me, before she turned to sit in the first row, Phil taking up the seat on her opposite side. Charlie came along after, looking almost as awkward on his feet as I was, but giving me a quick encouraging half smile before taking another seat in the front row. Carine then was not far behind, and she came up to sit in the front row on the opposite side. Her features were more reserved than my mom's, but I could see the shine in her golden eyes, too.

The music slowly shifted then, flowing seamlessly into a new song. The familiar tones of Wagner's traditional march replaced Pachelbel's Canon. My gaze remained locked on that same spot, and I felt the sweat break out on my palms.

Sarah was the first to appear, a basket of white flower petals over one arm. She beamed out at everyone with obvious excitement, as she took a handful of petals and sent them fluttering down around her, a few catching the clothes of the guests sitting closest to the edge.

When Edythe had asked Sarah if she would be opposed to the idea of playing a part in the wedding, she had been enthusiastic at the thought. She'd volunteered for this job, though she'd gotten so tall over the past summer she almost looked too old for it.

Sarah had to be unlike just about anyone I'd ever met. I wouldn't be surprised if she was the first werewolf to ever participate in a vampire wedding.

Behind Sarah came Eleanor and Jessamine, both in bridesmaid dresses of deep cerulean blue. Jessamine looked solemn for the occasion, but Eleanor grinned around at everyone, and gave me a wink I was sure no one failed to miss. They both came to a stop beside the altar, and turned to face the stairs.

I closed my eyes for just a second, and took a deep, steadying breath—before I opened them again, and focused my gaze once again at the top of the staircase. I counted the seconds—before at last she appeared, and I felt my breath catch in my throat.

A gossamer white veil hung in front of Edythe's face, hiding it from my view, and she carried an elaborate bouquet in front of her. The white dress she wore was the same as the room—simple, but elegant, with a hint of the early nineteen hundreds in the design of the lace. Earnest was, of course, at her side, one extended arm linked through hers. His smile was wide, shining with overwhelming warmth and pride.

They walked slowly, Edythe pacing each step with perfect rhythm to the sound of the music. In a moment they were before us, and came to a stop. Jessamine and Eleanor stepped forward to draw back Edythe's veil, then retreated a few steps away.

I stared down into her face, and for a moment, I couldn't breathe.

Edythe had never before looked so heartbreakingly beautiful as she did now—Archie had outdone himself. But it was more than just skill with a makeup brush. I had never before seen her so radiant—her deep, golden eyes so alight with purest joy.

I felt all the vague worries that had been bouncing around my head for months slowly drift away. Suddenly, absolutely everything made sense. I knew what I was going to have to do, to give up—but it was all absolutely worth it.

I realized I was supposed to hold out my hand, and I did. I couldn't look away from her eyes, and I didn't.

Earnest took Edythe's hand and, very gently, placed it in mine. My fingers curled around hers, and the cool touch of her skin against mine was familiar—and wonderful beyond description. My heart swelled in my chest, until I thought it was going to burst.

Reverend Weber read out the vows, all the simple, traditional words that had been spoken at a thousand, thousand weddings. Edythe and I had only requested one change—to substitute the line "til death do us part" for "as long as we both shall live."

The minister turned to Edythe first, asking the question that had been asked so many times. Her eyes the color of honey gazed deep into mine and she never once looked away, as if she were as trapped in the spell of this moment as I was.

"I do," she said softly, but fervently.

When it was my turn, my voice came out low, almost rough with emotion. "I do."

Mr. Weber declared us husband and wife. Very carefully, I took her face in my hands. For a moment I could only gaze down into her golden eyes, incredulous that this was really happening, that this beautiful, talented and, most of all, good, kind, and giving girl had really chosen me.

I pressed my lips to hers, gently at first, then stronger. I felt her arms around my neck, the bouquet somewhere at my shoulder, holding me tightly. When she pulled back, her golden eyes were shining.

The crowd erupted in applause, and I blinked, surprised—I'd forgotten they were there. Edythe's free hand still holding mine, she turned to face our family and friends, and so did I, though my gaze lingered on her a moment longer.

Our families surged forward and soon we were standing in the midst of a thick crowd. My mom was crying as she hugged me, blubbering out her congratulations, and I saw my dad hanging back a little, sniffing and not looking much more composed himself. People were hugging us and congratulating us all around, and I felt both the soft, warm embraces of my human friends, and the cooler ones of my new family.

One hug was different from the others—Sarah Clearwater's arm was scorching as she threw it around my neck, then clapped me on the back. Standing in for her missing sister.

She grinned. "Congrats, Beau," she said in my ear, so I would hear her voice over the insanely loud babble all around.

"Thanks," I murmured back. "Glad you were here." I didn't add what I would have liked to—that, selfish as it might be, I wished her sister could have been here, too.

Sarah pulled away then, to make room for others. However, perhaps she read what I was thinking because, as she went, I thought I saw a flicker of some unspoken emotion in her eyes.

* * *

A/N: And, it's finally official. How many books have we been waiting now?

The wedding here was not quite as elaborate as Bella's, mainly because I felt like Edythe being more in control of her own wedding wouldn't be quite as prone to extremes as Alice. (And because I figured Edythe would be more sensitive to not scaring Beau out of his mind than Alice was to Bella.)

Thanks so much for reading! If you have a moment, let me know what you thought, and hope to see you next time!

Posted 7/22/19


	5. Now and Forever

A/N: Hey all, back again.

We're making progress—while this one may not be quite as dramatic as the original version (for reasons you might be able to guess), I hope you'll enjoy it anyway, and see you at the end!

* * *

Chapter 4: Now and Forever

The wedding quickly flowed into the reception party without a hitch. Edythe—and, I was beginning to realize Archie had had a bigger hand in helping out than I'd realized—had everything planned out to perfection. And so, it was just twilight over the river, the sun set behind the trees, just as they had planned it.

Edythe and I headed out through the glass back doors to where the reception was being held. There were more white flowers here, and the amazing fragrance had me filling my lungs again and again. As with everything else, it was just enough, and not overpowering. A dance floor had been set up on the grass, under two ancient cedars.

Everything felt more calm and relaxed now. The crowd spread out to mingle and enjoy the food, and there was time to talk. Sarah came over to clap me on the back again, while I noticed her father watching from the background with a look of intense disapproval.

I noticed Bonnie sitting just beside him, and she was nearly as tense. However, her eyes weren't scanning the crowd of guests with a look of deep suspicion as Saul was. Rather, she kept glancing toward the woods, knuckles tapping nervously on the arm of her wheelchair. I wondered if she was afraid some of the wolves were going to come roaring in to crash the party, or if all this just made her nervous in general—after all, she had to know this event foreshadowed a challenge to the treaty between the Cullens and Quileutes, the treaty that prohibited the Cullens from ever creating another vampire. The breach was coming—but we still didn't know how the wolves were going to react. Before the alliance to stop Victor, it would have meant an immediate attack. But now...would things be different? Would there be more understanding?

Sarah passed by me to throw an arm around Edythe, which Edythe returned with her free hand. Behind her, I saw Saul shudder and clench his fist at his side, as though he wanted to hurl himself forward and drag his daughter to safety.

Sarah skipped back a step, grinning again. "Congratulations," she said. "You're going to be the happiest people I know."

"Thank you, Sarah," Edythe said, smiling back. "I do believe we will."

Edythe's eyes turned to Saul and Bonnie behind her. "And thank you for coming as well. It means a great deal to us."

Saul snorted and turned his head to glare haughtily in another direction. Bonnie didn't respond, her eyes wandering toward the forest again.

Sarah and Edythe shared a brief look I didn't understand. Then Sarah was smiling again. "Well, guess we better get moving, we're holding up the line." Indeed, there were people stacking up behind them now, so many I was surprised it was possible we could know them all.

"Save a dance for me later, Beau, won't you?" Sarah added with a careless grin.

"Sure," I called back, smiling.

Allen and Becca were next in line, and Becca babbled in a happy, though nearly incoherent string of fond memories and predictions of the future, while Allen smiled a bit and murmured his congratulations in a low voice. At the end, Becca leaned in close to Edythe and mumbled something I didn't catch. Edythe's returning smile was wide, and she answered softly, "You didn't really need me. You just needed a push in the right direction."

As Allen and Becca moved on, making way for Allen's parents, I raised a questioning eyebrow at her. She smiled and shrugged a shoulder dismissively. Next were McKayla and Jeremy, holding hands, and then McKayla's parents.

Standing behind them were my brand new cousins—the Denali vampire clan. At the front was a jaw-droppingly good-looking guy with blond hair streaked with just the barest hint of sunset red, with absolutely perfect white teeth which all gleamed as he grinned. He reached out to give Edythe a congratulatory hug, while the other three watched me curiously with their golden eyes. I had no doubt that the blond guy at the front was the infamous Tanvir.

"Edythe!" he exclaimed, keeping his arm around her shoulders a little longer than necessary. "It's been a while, hasn't it? Have to say, it's been a bit lonely without you."

Edythe laughed, and didn't seem at all worried about hurting his feelings as she deftly pulled out from under his arm. "It's good to see you, too, Tanvir," she said. "I'm glad to see you haven't changed in the slightest."

He grinned and winked. "You know my way with the ladies is all part of my charm."

Edythe smiled and shook her head. "But, I'm being rude. I haven't introduced you yet." Edythe wound an arm around my waist, pulling herself close to my side. Her eyes burned bright with excitement. "Tanvir, this is Beau—my husband." The overwhelming warmth and affection she infused in the two words was enough to make me lightheaded, and when she turned to gaze on me with adoring eyes, I couldn't help but stare back at her in return.

"Nice to finally meet you, Beau," Tanvir said easily, offering me his hand to shake. "Congratulations. It takes a lot to move Edythe—I would know." He laughed heartily.

I forced myself to look away from Edythe, and reached out to shake his hand uncertainly. "Um, thanks."

He paused, then added a bit more seriously, "Sorry about before—we consider ourselves Carine's extended family, but I guess when it counted, we didn't live up to that. We can't say how sorry we are."

He was looking at me, not Edythe, as he said it, and I didn't know what to say. "Um, oh, that's okay. It all worked out."

He grinned again, showing all his white teeth. It reminded me of the smile this one movie-star had, who was popular back when I was in junior high. Half the girls in the school had kept posters of him in their locker, and broke into giggle fits whenever his name came up in conversation. However, Edythe didn't seem to notice, because her eyes were still on me.

"So," Tanvir said. "Looks like all the Cullens are evened up in numbers now. Maybe we'll be next, eh, Ki?"

A guy with straight blond hair, so light it was almost white, rolled his eyes. I figured 'Ki' must be Kirill. "We can keep dreaming," he muttered. Like Tanvir, Kirill carried himself with a kind of innate confidence, but it seemed a different sort of confidence from Tanvir's lady-killer vibe. When he came forward to shake my hand as well, he gripped it a bit stronger than Tanvir had.

"Welcome to the family," he said. He jerked his chin toward Tanvir. "Don't worry about this fool."

The other two approached as well, a little more cautiously. They both had dark hair and an olive complexion, and something about the close way they stood, and seemed to move as a single unit, I could tell they were together.

"Carlos," said the man as he shook my hand. "This is Elena. We're glad to finally meet you. We've heard a great deal about you."

"Nice to meet you too," I answered, managing a smile even though it was a little overwhelming meeting so many vampires at once who weren't the Cullens.

Tanvir glanced back at the line behind them. Charlie's deputy Mark and his wife were staring at the Denali clan with huge eyes.

Tanvir turned back to us. "Well, we'll have to get to know each other better sometime. But I guess we'll have plenty of time for that." He gave me a wink before they all moved on to go mingle with some of the other Cullens.

Edythe and Archie had made it a traditional wedding, down to the last detail. Lots of pictures were taken, and Edythe and I cut the cake together. I was surprised when Edythe murmured in my ear that Earnest had been the one who had baked it. Edythe threw her bouquet, and it landed right in Becca's hands. She and Allen shared a look, then blushed and looked away from each other.

When Archie started up the music, I didn't object as Edythe led me out for the first dance. Edythe was the only one who I could really dance with—as long as I followed her lead, I was fine.

Edythe gazed up into my eyes, never looking away, as though she were as entranced as I was. Only when the music changed, and Earnest cut in on us, did I blink and come out of the spell. My mom took up Edythe's place, and she was beaming as she danced with the perfect easy grace of a pixie, and I did my best to keep up. She was laughing, and I realized I was laughing, too.

However, as the music moved into a slightly slower part of the song, my mom slowed too, and her eyes watched me. Without meaning to, my gaze drifted toward the forest.

"You're worried about something," she said softly.

I shook my head. "No way, Mom. This is the best day of my life."

She raised an eyebrow. "Since when does my little open book think he can lie to his mother?"

I sighed. "I'm happy, Mom, I promise. It's just..." I glanced toward the woods again. "I guess there was this friend I was hoping would be able to come." I shook my head. "It was stupid."

She looked up into my eyes, with that keen perceptiveness that still always seemed to catch me unawares. "You mean Julie Black," she said.

I blinked, startled. Then my gaze dropped. "Yeah."

My mom had never actually met Jules. I'd only talked about her in my emails, mostly back during my dark days when Edythe was gone from Forks. So I was surprised when she said, "Maybe it was just too hard for her."

I stared back at her.

She gave me a look, eyebrows both raised. "Now, I'm not _totally _oblivious to these things."

I sighed. "Yeah, maybe it was. Too hard, I mean. She's my best friend, but...things are complicated." I hesitated. "Guess it was kind of a selfish thought."

She smiled as she put a hand to my face. "You're not selfish, dear. You just care about your friends, and you want to be able to share with them a little of your happiness."

I nodded slowly.

"So," she said, with a huge smile. "Do you know where you're going on your honeymoon yet?"

I shrugged. "I think they're trying to keep it kind of a secret. I didn't ask, anyway. I guess when it comes down to it, I don't really care that much, so long as Edythe's there."

My mom shook her head, half amused, half incredulous. "You must really be in love. I'm _dying _to know, and it's not even my honeymoon."

I laughed, and we danced until someone else cut in, and she wandered off to find Phil.

I watched Edythe out of the corner of my eye. No matter how uncoordinated or clumsy her partner, she made everyone look good. I danced with a lot of friends from school, being extra careful so I wouldn't trip and take someone down. It was nicer than I expected—I talked to Becca a little about her and Allen's plans for the summer, and Taylor chattered on about where she was going to college next year.

I was a bit surprised, pleasantly so, when Sarah cut in on McKayla.

"Hey," she said, smiling. "You did promise me a dance, remember?"

"Sure," I said with a grin. "Course I remember."

Sarah kept the pace easy and slow for my sake, though she moved with the perfect grace and fluidity of all her wolf sisters.

"Lee's still being a brat," she informed me, eyes glittering. "He's sulking at home. I keep telling him to just get over himself, but he never listens to me."

"Hey," I said, worried now. "You really shouldn't pick fights with him. He's twice as big as you."

Sarah snorted with derision and waved a hand dismissively. "I hope he doesn't hear you say that or it will go straight to his head. He acts tougher than he really is. He tries to bully the others around, but no one in the pack will put up with it."

I suddenly remembered Lee's whole bad situation—with the love triangle with Sam and Elliot, and the awkward mind-sharing. And of course, the constant onslaught of estrogen.

Sarah laughed suddenly. "Wow. Jules was right. It really _is _easy to read what's going through your head."

I snapped out of my reverie and frowned. "What?"

She rolled her eyes. "You just got this really sympathetic look on your face. Don't bother. There's nothing my brother hates more than sympathy." She added brightly, "Why do you think I go out of my way to bug him when he's already having a sucky time? Because I'm a good sister, and I'm helping him hold onto his ego. He hates it when people start acting nice."

If anything, my perplexed frown deepened. "That sounds...kind of warped."

Sarah flashed a grin. "That's what pointless machoism is all about."

I hesitated, glancing automatically toward the forest again, for about the twentieth time that evening. When I spoke again, I kept my voice low. "By the way, about...Jules...did you find out where she was last?"

Sarah's smile faded. Once again she got that look in her eye from before—like there was something she wasn't saying.

"What?" I said, my voice rising a little with agitation. I forced myself to a sound a bit more calm as I added, "Did something happen?"

Sarah shook her head rapidly. "No, not really. It's just that—well, when I got up this morning, I wondered if Jules was headed over here, if she was going to try to make it. So I went out and went wolf to see. But...she wasn't there."

I stared back at her. For a moment, I couldn't react.

"It's nothing to freak out over," she said quickly, seeing my expression. "It just means she's gone human for awhile. She's been living as a wolf for months—maybe she's finally getting tired of it. Or maybe she just wanted some time alone to think."

"Oh," I said. "Right." Still, I felt my stomach tighten all the same. As long as Jules was a wolf, Sarah and the others could tell vaguely where she was, and if she was all right. Human...we couldn't tell anything.

Sarah sighed, then smiled a bit ruefully. "You know, when I first realized I couldn't hear her this morning, I sort of thought...well, I thought she might have come back. For this. For you. Like, she was hanging out in town, and didn't want us to know."

She shook her head. "Guess that was kind of silly. The others on patrol last night say she disappeared in the early evening—I guess something they were thinking must have upset her, and when she slipped off, she wasn't anywhere near here. But, I know she'd kind of been thinking about it, debating, even though she was trying not to. So I thought, maybe..." Sarah sighed, then shrugged.

"I wouldn't have expected her to come," I said quietly. "She shouldn't have felt like she had to."

Sarah's eyebrows furrowed, and her eyes flickered to the woods again.

"What?" I said.

Sarah looked up at me, and her eyes were full of worry. I felt my stomach, which had loosened a little, suddenly contract in another knot, harder than the last.

Sarah looked down. "The others aren't too worried yet—well, except Bonnie. She's tried to stay cool, but us not being in contact with Jules really has her pretty wound up. But Jules will probably go wolf again soon, and we'll find out what's up. But...I don't know why, I have this bad feeling."

I swallowed. "You think..." I said, struggling to keep my voice even. "You think maybe something bad happened?"

Sarah shook her head. "I don't know. It's just a gut feeling—I mean, I know Jules hadn't decided to be here or anything, but I just feel like—well, I feel like if she _could _be here, she would be. She would come to support you. The fact she's not here, and she's not headed here right now..." She sighed deeply again.

I was tense. My eyes flickered out toward the forest yet again, as though hoping to see a figure suddenly emerge from the shadows—or at least the hulking outline of a shaggy, russet wolf. I felt a chill. Was it possible something _was _wrong?

Sarah shook her head again, then smiled. "But, probably nothing to be worried about. Maybe when she went human, she went into a bar somewhere and is passed out, drunk. And when she wakes up, she'll totally freak out that she missed it."

I frowned. "Jules isn't old enough to be drinking."

Sarah laughed. "She's never drank in her life. But you never know. She's been kind of...erratic, lately."

I nodded. I knew that much. And I knew whose fault it was.

Sarah looked up into my face. "Sorry," she said. "I really shouldn't have said anything. I shouldn't be worrying you on a day like today. If I were Edythe, I wouldn't like it."

I shook my head. "I'd rather know than not know."

Sarah nodded, though she still looked uncomfortable, and not totally convinced.

The song came to an end, and another one started up, a slow song this time.

"Mind if I cut in?"

Edythe's soft, musical voice interrupted my thoughts, and Sarah jumped slightly.

"Sure," she said, grinning, but her eyes dropped guiltily.

Edythe touched Sarah's shoulder. "Thank you for coming today," she said sincerely. "And for being a part of this. I meant it when I said it means a lot to me."

Sarah looked up, and she grinned more fully. "No problem. It was way fun. Maybe I'll fly out the next time you get married."

Edythe laughed softly. "We'll send you an invitation."

It never failed to amaze me how casually Sarah referred to the vampire way of doing things. She knew I was going to be changed very soon, but she acted like it was totally natural, like it didn't make a difference. I couldn't help but watch her go, as she waded back through the crowd.

I felt Edythe's cool arms around me, and I was immediately distracted. I wrapped my arms around her, and she sighed contentedly, leaning her head against my shoulder. She was still in her wedding dress, and I didn't think I'd ever seen anything on this earth more beautiful. Today was our day. I should be focusing on the two of us, not letting my pessimistic imagination run wild.

Edythe closed her eyes, and the smile that curled her perfect lips was so blissful it made my heart beat a little faster. Then she lifted her head and I felt her cool breath against my ear as she murmured, "You're worried about Julie Black."

I missed a step in the dance, and she had to raise a hand to my back to steady me.

I considered denying it. But of course, she'd probably heard some of—or all—the conversation with Sarah.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

Edythe pulled back to look me in the face. "Don't be sorry," she said, softly but fiercely. "Don't ever be sorry, Beau." She sighed then and glanced away. "To be honest, I'm a little worried, too. I hope that fool of a dog hasn't gone and gotten herself hurt. I know how that would upset you—and, strangely, me as well."

I looked away, and didn't answer.

"Maybe we can look for her," Edythe suggested. "After our honeymoon. During, if you're very anxious."

I blinked, startled, and quickly turned back to assess her expression. She couldn't possibly want that. However, if there was any reluctance at the idea, she didn't show it. Her golden eyes were warm and gentle, filled with nothing but concern for me.

I had to look away from her—she was too beautiful, inside and out. Even if I did become a vampire, good-looking on the outside, I'd never deserve her. Not in a hundred years.

"I'm sure she's okay," I said. "If she's gone very much longer, the wolves will probably go after her. They're probably better equipped to find her than we would be anyway."

Edythe studied my face for a minute, as always, trying to read my mind. Maybe searching for a sign I was just saying what I thought she wanted to hear. However, at last she sighed and leaned her head against my shoulder again. I felt her cool hand against my back, holding me to her.

"Whatever you want, Beau," she murmured. "Whatever you think is best."

We were quiet then, and I held her tightly to me as we meandered over the dance floor, as the pink twilight deepened behind the clouds. I was still incredulous—it still didn't feel real, that the two of us were officially bound together. I was hers, and she was mine. We were a team now, a single unit with a single purpose—now and forever.

The music shifted again, to a song a little more up-tempo, and I felt someone tap me on the shoulder.

"Do I get a dance with my sister?"

I glanced over to see Archie hovering nearby, grinning broadly.

Edythe acted like she didn't notice him for a minute, staring up into my eyes, her arm wound around my back unmoving. However, perhaps he was thinking some particularly annoying thoughts, because at last she sighed and rolled her eyes. "I suppose I don't have a choice," she said. She reluctantly disengaged herself from my arms, though not before leaning up to give me a quick kiss.

I watched the two of them circle away, looking like a perfectly choreographed pair of partners from a dance company. Though they were both smiling, I noticed an odd intensity in their eyes—the way they both had when they were having one of their silent conversations.

However, before I had a chance to really get myself worked up with worry, my thoughts were interrupted when Eleanor, laughing, sidled up to claim a dance. Before long I had to turn all my attention to not tripping and falling into Eleanor, and making a total fool of myself. I was sure if I did Eleanor would never let me live it down, and even more importantly, I had a feeling Royal had his eyes on us, and I wasn't ready to die yet.

I danced with a few more people, including Jessamine and Carine, but after a while I was looking for Edythe again. Normally her beauty and grace made her easy to pick out from a crowd, but I didn't see her anywhere, and I was just thinking about going to look when I felt someone touch my arm. I jumped slightly, but turned to find it was my mom.

"It's almost time, sweetheart," she said, smiling, though her eyes shone with tears. "You don't want to miss your plane."

I blinked. I'd completely lost track of the time. I turned to see a crowd was beginning to gather in a tight cluster around the front of the house, getting ready to see us off.

"I think Edythe's gone to change," she said. "You'll be going in a few minutes."

She gazed up into my face a long minute, her hand on my cheek. Then she drew me into a hug. "Oh, honey," she sighed. "You have to promise to visit us very soon." Phil, who was hovering in the background, nodded once and smiled. She added, "It's your turn to come south, see the sun for once."

I put an arm around her. To avoid answering her invitation, I said, "It didn't rain today." My voice came out strangely low, and more husky than I meant—she didn't realize this would probably be the last time I would ever see her. Very soon I was going to be too different, too dangerous to be around any of my human family.

As though she could read my thoughts, she sniffled suddenly, and she had to reach up quickly to wipe away a tear, smudging a little of her makeup in the process.

"Don't cry, Mom," I mumbled, patting her shoulder. I glanced down at her stomach, and added, "Take care of her." I'd decided to follow my mom's lead in assuming it was a girl. "Make sure you're getting all the right vitamins and stuff."

She laughed a little through her tears, wiping a few away and leaving a few more smudges around her eyes. "I will," she promised, smiling, and she put a loving hand to her stomach.

It was strange to think how my mom was getting an entirely new life now, a new family. It didn't sting the way it might have in the past—now I could only hope it meant she'd be okay without me.

She turned toward the house, working to pull herself together. "We better go. You'll want to meet Edythe now. She'll be waiting for you."

I swallowed, waiting a moment until my tight throat was completely cleared before I answered. "Yeah." However, I didn't turn for the house right away, and instead I found my eyes scanning the crowd.

My mom immediately knew who I was looking for. "He's over there, by the house. Hiding from the party, of course." She shook her head, smiling with a kind of affectionate exasperation.

I made my way through the crowd, and found him just where my mom had said, leaning uncomfortably against the wall of the house, removed from the general hubbub. I came to a stop just short of where he stood.

We were both silent for a minute before I said at last, "Um, hey, Dad. I...guess we're going soon."

He nodded. "Have a good time."

Another pause, filled only by the voices of the other guests, chattering in excitement as they mulled around in preparation for the send-off.

"Call me, won't you?" Charlie grunted at last. "When you get around to it. Sometime before the semester starts."

"Sure, Dad." I hesitated. Awkwardly, I reached out an arm for a hug. He grunted again, surprised, but then put an arm around me in return.

I said in a hoarse whisper, "Thanks for everything, Dad."

When I pulled back again, I saw his eyes were a little red.

He coughed into his fist. "Better go," he said gruffly. "You don't want to be late."

I nodded, and turned away. My throat felt tight again. I took a deep breath and tried to steady myself.

Inside the house, I found Edythe already waiting for me at the foot of the stairs. She'd already traded out the wedding dress for a simple but finely cut dress of pale blue, and she smiled wide when she saw me.

"Ready?" she asked, extending her hand.

I took it, and wrapped an arm around her slender shoulders. "Definitely."

Everyone was waiting for us as we headed outside. Both of our parents waited by the door, and Edythe hugged Carine, then Earnest, and Earnest's face seemed to glow as he touched her cheek affectionately and kissed her on the forehead. I hugged both of my parents, and my mom was crying worse than ever as she blubbered out how happy she was and nearly incoherent invitations to come and see her.

Someone had brought the going away car around, and it was waiting in the drive, gleaming white in the evening light, and decorated with flowers and streamers on every available surface. Everyone cheered and applauded when I clumsily kissed Edythe on the porch, and we headed toward the car amidst a storm of rice—Eleanor in particular had incredible aim, and I wondered how long it would take Edythe to get the grains out of her hair.

"Um," I mumbled in Edythe's ear, suddenly thinking of something. "Who's driving?"

Edythe raised an eyebrow at me. "I'll give you a hint," she murmured in a melodious undertone, and I saw a flash of the keys in her hand. "Our driver's name doesn't start with _B_."

I frowned slightly. "Won't that look weird?" I muttered back.

She flashed a grin. "Consider it your wedding gift to me."

I shrugged. I guess I didn't care if she didn't. I went and opened the driver's side door for her, and she slid on in, waving at the crowd as she did so. I quickly dove around to the passenger side as I was hailed with rice—I heard Eleanor's laugh of delight rise above the cheering crowd.

As the car pulled away from the house, I turned around to look back one last time. I saw my mom, still waving, Phil standing at her side. He had his arms around her affectionately, one hand resting lightly on her stomach. My dad stood nearby, watching me go quietly. As I looked on, my mom dropped her waving hand, and reached out to take Charlie's, at the same time she reached up to place a hand over Phil's.

They would be okay. My human families all had each other.

I felt Edythe's cool hand on mine, and I turned to see her golden eyes on me.

"Are you doing all right?" she asked softly.

I smiled as I gazed back into her face. Everything was right with the world. I turned my hand over so I could lace my fingers through hers. "Yeah. Better than all right."

She smiled back, then turned her eyes back to the road.

I slid over into the middle seat and fastened my seat belt, then I slipped an arm around her shoulders. "I love you," I said in her ear.

She sighed and leaned back against my shoulder, breathing deeply. "You, too," she murmured. "Forever."

We turned onto the black highway, and Edythe really hit the accelerator then. Without meaning to, my eyes flickered back toward the forest behind us. The image of my human family flickered in my mind again, and images of all my human friends. However, it was incomplete. There was a hole there, where someone else should have been.

I allowed myself one last, lingering thought, before I determined to shut it from my mind.

_Hope you're safe out there, Jules. Wherever you are._

* * *

A/N: In some ways not a hugely eventful chapter this time, but next chapter will be when things really start to radically diverge from Breaking Dawn. The next couple chapters have been some of my favorite to work on for this story, but...well. I do mean it when I say this is a new plot, and not a parallel of the original Breaking Dawn. (Which for me, is a bit like having been safely riding on train rails most of the journey, only to be suddenly hurled out flying into the atmosphere.)

Thanks to for the reimagined name for Carmen. (Who, if you remember, also suggested the gender-swapped names for Brady and Collin back in New Moon.) I had filled in Carter for a while, just to have something there, but I thought, that doesn't sound very Spanish. Carlos sounded a lot more natural. Not sure if you're still reading this georigos, but thanks!

As always, thanks so much for reading and keeping up with me. I really appreciate all your thoughts and feedback, and I'm definitely excited to get to the next chapter, if a bit terrified. If you have a moment, let me know what you thought, and hope to see you next time!

Posted 8/19/19


	6. Possibilities

A/N: Hey there again!

Okay, this is the point where the plot takes a sharp turn away from the original. It may either be enjoyable for being something new and different, or...not. (Sadly, I feel like once you're not following the rails anymore, gravity makes it easier to crash and burn than to fly. Yes, I'm a pessimist by nature.) But of course, I've had a ton of fun working on this regardless, and I'm going to keep doing my best.

In any case—so then, when it comes to the sexual themes of this story, this and the next will likely be the most T-rated chapters. However, I would put this as a milder T than the original Breaking Dawn. (The more physical side of Beau and Edythe's relationship that of course is so present in Life and Death has been given less focus in this particular Reimagined series, which was a deliberate choice on my part. There are a few reasons for that, which I'll discuss a bit more about at the end of the next chapter.)

Wish me luck, and hope to see you at the end! :J

* * *

Chapter 5: Possibilities

"Colorado? Really?"

I was staring down at the ticket in my hand as we headed through Seattle airport security. "From the hints Archie kept dropping, I was sure we were at least going out of the country."

Edythe glanced back at me, and she looked apologetic. "We had a last-minute change of plans." She hesitated, then added in a low voice, "Originally, Earnest was going to let us use his tropical island in South America. But...well, Archie told you about the recent development with Sulpicia. So Archie and I both thought it better if we stuck closer to home."

I stopped where I was and stared at her. I opened my mouth, but just then a burly TSA ordered me to keep it moving.

As we pushed our bags into the X-ray, I whispered incredulously, "Earnest owns an _island?_"

Edythe raised an eyebrow at me, as if she couldn't believe that was the part I was reacting to.

"Yes, Carine bought it for him as a gift," she said dismissively. She added with a wistful sigh, "It would have been nice. The climate is so warm, you would never be cold. And it's absolutely beautiful there. But, Eleanor agreed to let us use one of her and Royal's out-of-the-way cabins instead. She has them all over the country, mostly near national parks. Once in a while she gets a whim to go out hiking in the back country, and Royal humors her. Royal and Eleanor have a lot of experience with honeymoons." She made a slight face.

"Which national park is this one at?" I wanted to know. Edythe opened her mouth to reply, but then we were being shunted through the metal detector, and I had to gather up my carry-on bag and reclaim my wallet before someone else walked off with it, so I decided to leave the question for later.

I didn't realize how tired I was until, as the plane was beginning its ascent, I drifted off to sleep. It felt like we'd barely taken off before Edythe was gently shaking my shoulder, and pulling me down the aisle and through the hallways of the Denver airport toward the baggage claim to pick up our luggage. I vaguely noticed Edythe had changed out of her going-away dress into normal clothes, and I wondered when she'd had time to do that. It was already dark outside, so she hadn't bothered with gloves, scarf or any other accessories she used when it was light out.

I didn't really wake up until we were out at the car rentals, and I found myself face-to-face with an unbelievable monstrosity.

"Um," I said. "Where are we going again?"

I eyed the huge off-roader incredulously. The tires alone were up to my waist. The thing looked like it could drive over a mountain and come out with all its suspensions perfectly intact.

"Eleanor recommended this model," Edythe explained. "It's faster than it looks—we had it brought in from Fort Carson."

I could easily believe it. I doubted you could find this kind of beast from any ordinary airport car rental. "Does the military just loan out their vehicles for anyone?" I said as I walked around to the passenger seat.

Edythe smiled. "Eleanor's always been interested in the military, so she knows a few people. We've made quite a few sizable donations to their operations in the past."

I nodded. Bribery. It was starting to come together.

"Are we going to a battlefield for our honeymoon?" I asked, as I struggled to pull myself up into the high passenger seat.

Edythe grinned as she flitted around to sit on the driver's side, then reached across the seat to help haul me up. "I've learned that where you're concerned, Beau, we can never take too many precautions."

"Great," I muttered, as a couple guys passing to get into their rented SUV openly gaped at us, jaws slack. I wondered what had happened to trying to blend in.

"So," I said, as Edythe maneuvered our way through the serpentine exit roads out of the airport and toward the end of town. "What's this dangerous place we're headed to again? I forgot to pack my bulletproof vest." In fact, I didn't know what was in my luggage, as Archie had done the packing for me.

"Black Canyon of the Gunnison," she replied, smiling, eyes on the road as we zipped down the freeway and out of town. "Where we're staying isn't actually in the park, but in a forested area near the Gunnison River to the northwest. It's right by the conservation area—though of course we don't hunt there. But there's plenty of interesting sites to see. I think you'll appreciate the scenery."

"Why's it called Black Canyon?" I wanted to know. The name sounded just a bit ominous to me.

Edythe's smile was a grin now. "It's one of the deepest, most narrow canyons in the world. So sunlight only penetrates its depths for thirty-three minutes of any given day. Looking up from the bottom, it makes the canyon walls appear black."

"Ah," I said, nodding. "Convenient."

Edythe laughed. "If you're a vampire." She shook her head. "Actually, a vampire _did_ live in the canyon, a long time ago. He had moved on by the time they established the place as a national park, but the nearby Utes have a long memory—and people today think they avoided the place purely out of _superstition_." She laughed again.

"Will we be going down into the canyon?" I asked. I could only hope there was a wide, even path without anything to trip over.

"Of course," she said. "There's a lot to see. And wait until you see the flowers there. Black Canyon gilia only grow in Colorado. Much of the time they grow up on the steep cliff faces." She smiled to herself. "Funny little flowers—instead of growing where the soil is easy and stable, they grow up where it's most difficult, where they have to work just to cling to life."

I shrugged. "But they get a great view," I pointed out. "They obviously feel like it's worth it." I smiled a little. I'd never really been big into nature stuff and backwoods hiking, but Edythe's enthusiasm had me just a bit excited too. "You'll have to show them to me."

Edythe beamed, then chuckled a little. "We'll have to stay out of sight, though. Technically you aren't supposed to be down in the deepest parts of the canyon without a backcountry permit. This was kind of last-minute, so we didn't have time to forge you one."

I mentally winced at that. So, no easy trails then. But I guess I should have expected that. "That's okay. With my coordination, nobody would have believed I could have gotten one honestly anyway."

Edythe laughed, then reached out and took my hand.

"What sort of hunting will you have?" I wanted to know.

She made a face. "Not a whole lot. Elk, mainly. Coyotes will probably be the biggest delicacy around here." She raised my hand to press it to her face, then sighed deeply. "But it doesn't matter. I really think I could live on penguins as long as I was with you."

I was distracted for a moment, watching her face. The pleasure and contentment in her expression was so profound it made my breath catch in my throat.

After a minute, I turned my gaze back toward the road and, just looking for something to say, I asked vaguely, "How long will it take us to get there, do you think?"

My eyes automatically drifted back to Edythe. When it came down to it, I didn't really care. I was content to just sit here watching Edythe the rest of the night and then some.

That reminded me, and I glanced at my watch. It had taken about two and a half hours flying from Seattle, and it was almost midnight now. However, thanks to my nap, I was wide awake. I wondered if our entire honeymoon night was going to be spent on the road—maybe Edythe had planned it that way. But at the moment, I didn't really mind.

Edythe was considering the question. "Well, the canyon is supposed to be a five-hour drive from the airport." Her lips curled into a bit of a wicked grin. "So I'd say...if we take it a bit slow to enjoy the scenery...what do you say we try to make it in by two?"

I grimaced. The speed limit was seventy-five a lot of the way there. I really didn't want to think about how fast we would be going to make it there in less than half the normal time. "Um, I'm not in that big of a hurry."

Edythe shook her head, still smiling. "Beau, if you want to be one of us, you're going to have to get over this ridiculous aversion to driving a little fast."

I didn't answer, just rolled my eyes toward the window. However, our hands remained linked.

We drove in silence for a little while until Edythe said conversationally, "So, your mother's getting further along now."

I paused, then nodded. "Yeah. And she's convinced it's going to be a girl."

Edythe smiled. "She could be right. Archie wants it to be a surprise, so he's been refusing to check, and your mother seems to have good instincts."

I shook my head. "She has a fifty-fifty chance, anyway."

I glanced back to find Edythe gazing back at me.

"Is it true?" she asked suddenly.

I paused, looking back at her uncertainly. "Is what true?"

Edythe's gaze bore back into mine, her mouth smiling, but her eyes oddly intense. "That you always wanted a sister."

I blinked, and I didn't know why it surprised me she had overheard that particular conversation.

I shrugged, and turned my eyes back to stare out the dark side window. It was too dark out to see exactly how fast we were going, for which I was grateful. "Yeah. I mean, when I was younger, I kind of wanted a sister. I'm not sure how my mom knew that, I never said anything, and it's not like I had a secret diary I was writing in."

Edythe smiled. "Maybe you said something about it in your sleep."

I frowned. Now that she mentioned it, that was a distinct possibility.

I felt her cool thumb stroke my hand, where our fingers were still linked between us. I sensed her earnest eyes on my face.

"Won't you want to meet your sister?" she asked.

I finally saw where she was going with this, and I sighed. "Edythe, we could keep finding excuses to put this off forever. Like I said, I think we should stick to the plan. Not too long after our honeymoon. Then we'll have our real honeymoon later, when I'm past the blood-crazy stage. I think we should do this sooner rather than later."

Edythe was still watching me, her eyes intense, troubled. "Beau, this is something you won't be able to take back. I don't see any problem with pushing it off a little, until we can be sure you've done everything you want to do. Better to wait and change later, than to rush and leave behind any regrets."

I stared out at the dark road, not meeting her gaze. Truthfully, a part of me was afraid that if I did see my sister, it would make this that much harder. If I saw her once, I might want to see her again, and there was no way that was happening after my change. I couldn't have both my human world and my vampire world, so I had made my choice. Drawing this out was only going to make it that much more painful.

Edythe took advantage of my silence to continue, her voice low, "As I said before, if it's just that you're anxious to have a real honeymoon...perhaps we could. You were worried, weren't you? About it not being the same when you're changed? Maybe we could try after all. If you wanted to stay human a bit longer..."

She let the offer hang. I didn't answer—I didn't want her to know how outrageously tempting a deal I found it. Edythe was willing to try, if I stayed human longer—but what bothered me most was that that second part of the deal was almost as tempting as the first. I'd made my decision, and knew exactly what I wanted, but as the time for my change raced up on us, I was afraid of it. Afraid of leaving everything I knew behind, afraid of hurting my parents, afraid of the kind of monster I would become.

Edythe could just continue to convince me to put it off, keep coming up with excuses. I couldn't let her do that.

We'd have a fun time together these two weeks. And I would use the time to meditate and mentally prepare—and then Edythe would change me. I would have to say goodbye to a lot of things, but then Edythe and I would finally be truly together. She wouldn't have to feel like she had to risk my life to make deals about keeping me human, and I'd have our real honeymoon to look forward to.

"Let's just stick to the plan," I said evenly, keeping my gaze fixed on the dark scenery ahead of us. "I think that's the best thing to do right now." I added as an afterthought, "Plus, there's Sulpicia to think about. She said after graduation. Now that Archie can't see her...well, she could show up on our doorstep any moment."

"I told you before I don't want you to change because you feel threatened," Edythe said quietly.

"I know," I said. "I'm not. But if I'm going to change anyway, I feel like there's not any point in going out of our way to antagonize the vampire government when we don't have to."

"Sulpicia has more important things to worry about at the moment than you," Edythe said, though I thought a hint of uncertainty crept into her tone.

I shrugged. "Yeah, maybe. But that's just a side note. I'm ready—let's put a date on this. Let's say the day after we get back from our honeymoon."

I could feel Edythe's eyes on my face again. Perhaps looking for any possible points of weakness. However, she wasn't going to find any. I did have a lot of things I would be giving up and leaving behind, and I knew how she hated that, but I was absolutely decided. I would have no regrets.

Edythe sighed deeply, looking away, and I knew the conversation was over for now. However, I had a feeling she wasn't finished by a long shot. I wondered if she would bring her offer up again when we got to the cabin. I wondered if I would be able to hold out.

I concentrated on steeling my resolve. If I was going to be able to resist human blood as a new vampire—and from what everyone had said, the temptation was supposed to be extreme—I had to at least be able to resist Edythe, for both of our own goods. I didn't know how the blood could be much worse than this, but maybe it would be good practice.

Edythe changed the subject. "You know," she said, smiling, her light good humor back, "I have a lot of extra time to think."

I nodded. That I knew. Every night when I was asleep, she was awake. I was so used to it, sometimes I forgot how amazing it was—that she would willingly lay for hours on end in the silence of my room while I was dead to the world, and never seem to want to be anywhere else.

Edythe's eyes were twinkling as she continued, "Well, the last few nights, I've found my thoughts taking me in theoretical, rather pointless directions."

"What have you been thinking about?" I asked, curious, glad for the distraction.

Edythe laughed. "Like I said...pointless speculation. Turning points. How things might have been different if situations had been thus and so. Not that I haven't been intensely aware of that these past couple of years—you can't be a mind-reader living with Archie and _not_ be aware of how decisions and happenstance shape the future every moment. But I was thinking about other things...other possibilities."

Her golden eyes turned to me, only just visible in the glowing light from the dashboard. I flashed back to that first night, when she had saved me from those insane drug dealers, and I had first learned for certain what she really was. The memory filled me with a sudden warmth.

"Like...what?" I said softly, gazing on her perfect porcelain features. She was just as beautiful now as she had been then—maybe more, now that I knew so much more about the deep beauty beyond the angelic smile.

Her eyes didn't move from mine. She was smiling slightly. "Like how things might have turned out differently if, when we met, I was human too."

I blinked. That was definitely something I'd never considered before.

Edythe continued, "I can't help but think I would have fallen for you just the same. Even without your irresistible blood and indecipherable mind to initially attract my attention. I would have fallen into watching you...wondering what you were thinking...wondering what you thought of me... No matter how much I might have resisted, I don't think I would have been able to help myself."

I considered that. I wasn't so convinced.

Edythe sighed and continued, "Of course, if I were an average, boring, perfectly safe human girl like all the others, you probably never would have even given me a thought."

I stared at her, slightly incredulous. "Somehow, I can't imagine you ever being boring and average, no matter what you were."

Edythe shook her head, still smiling. "I think you'd be surprised, Beau. Just how much the change _changes_ you. If you placed me next to my human self right now, you would probably have trouble connecting us. I wouldn't be graceful or athletic—I don't remember much about my human life, but I don't think the physical was my strong suit—I would have a normal mind, and thinking through several problems at once in the course of a millisecond would be far beyond me. My voice would be an average, rough human voice. There would have been nothing striking about me, nothing to set me apart from anyone else. Nothing alluring or mysterious enough to attract your attention."

She laughed a little ruefully. "If we were going to the same school and there was some other cute vampire girl going there...who knows? Maybe I would have ended up like poor McKayla."

I stared at her. I could feel a deep slash forming between my eyebrows. I didn't like what she seemed to be implying. Did she honestly see me that way?

I had to work to keep my voice even as I replied. "You make it sound like I would have fallen for _any _vampire girl I ran into."

"I don't mean that," she said, still smiling to herself, evidently intrigued by her own speculations. "I only mean to comment on the strange way in which circumstances can come together to create a certain outcome. How the slightest alteration can completely change how things might have been." She shrugged. "Anyway, things have already turned out the way they have, so it hardly matters now."

I could sense Edythe was about to move on to the next topic, maybe some other speculations she had mulled over while I was asleep the past few days. I should have let it go, but I couldn't.

"You're making it sound like I'm only here because you're a vampire," I said again, keeping my voice low, trying to keep the accusation out of my tone, though I wasn't sure I succeeded. "Do you really think that, all this time, I've only been interested in—"

Edythe pressed her cool fingers to my lips to cut me off. "Shh," she said soothingly, and she pulled her fingers away from my mouth to stroke a strand of stray hair back from my forehead. "That's not what I meant. I'm not saying you're here with me now for reasons like those. If your roots were so shallow, you would have run from me a long time ago. You accepted me, Beau, even being the monster I am, accepted the danger to yourself. You've risked your own life again and again by being near me, and yet you've never complained. Your kindness and strength are deeper than that of anyone I've ever known."

Her hand slipped down and stroked my face, and she stared up at me with that look I never could quite believe, eyes wide with wonder and awe, like she was staring at something almost painfully beautiful, instead of just me.

She closed her eyes briefly and breathed deeply, then leaned back and turned her attention back to the road. However, her eyes soon wandered back to me again, and this time they were glittering with amusement. "But, well, if Jeremy's version of things is to be believed—you were a bit obsessed with me from the beginning, weren't you?"

I frowned, and didn't answer.

She continued, "The only thing you knew about me at that time was that I was strange, and there was a distinct possibility that I despised you for absolutely no apparent reason. What had your attention was my alienness...those attractive features our kind have naturally, to aid us as predators."

I wanted desperately to deny it, but I couldn't. I stared straight ahead.

Edythe reached over and took my hand again, pressing my palm to her cool face and sighing deeply with contentment. "Honestly," she said, "it doesn't matter now how it began, Beau. Eventually you saw the monster behind the face, and you didn't flinch away... That's what matters. That's the proof we won't be pulled apart so easily."

I still didn't reply right away. No matter what she said about how it didn't matter, this line of thought bothered me. Was she right? Would I have gotten so obsessed with any vampire girl? I didn't think so. It was only Edythe who could have moved me—or was I just telling myself that?

"It was you," I muttered at last. "It would have always been you, no matter what. Human or vampire."

Edythe took in my expression. She reached up, stroking my face again, then took my hand and pressed her lips to my knuckles. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I didn't mean to upset you. I shouldn't have troubled you with my meaningless ponderings."

I took my hand back and folded my arms across my chest. "Well, maybe it goes both ways. If I would have gone for any vampire girl, maybe you would have gone for any guy, if his blood smelled good and you couldn't hear his thoughts. You could have ended up with a forty-year-old guy with a beard and a potbelly."

Edythe laughed. "I doubt it, but I see your point. As I said—all merely meaningless ponderings."

I glanced down, then back at her. In a low voice, I asked, "Do you...really think that? That things could have turned out like that? I would have chosen someone else, just because they were a vampire?"

Edythe looked back at me. Her smile was still in place, but her eyes were more serious, contemplating the question honestly. At last she said softly, "I really couldn't say. It's so impossible to tell what might have been if this or that. But in the end, it really doesn't matter to me in the slightest. Things did happen the way they did, and the life we've chosen is the one we will have. What matters is now."

I stared down at the dashboard. "My motivations don't matter to you?" I said slowly.

An edge of frustration had crept into Edythe's eyes now. She sighed suddenly in exasperation and turned back to the road. "Are you going to keep twisting everything that I say?"

"Sorry." I glanced back at her. Finally, I sighed a little, and smiled ruefully. "I guess I get what you're saying. You're probably right. I guess, just hearing it put like that...I didn't like it."

Edythe smiled again. "It really doesn't matter," she said again. "I mean, look at Romeo and Juliet. They're considered the most romantic couple of all time, but I always thought that first encounter a bit shallow. He thought she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen, and that was it. The reason people remember them isn't because they fell desperately in love in five seconds—people have been doing that for centuries—it's that, after that initial spark, when all the problems started coming out, they had the determination to face them, to do everything they had to in order to be together. Even though their families hated each other, even though Romeo slayed her cousin and they were going to have to be apart for awhile...no matter how it started, what mattered was they chose to have the strength to endure."

I considered that. And I realized, I did feel a little bit better.

"So," Edythe said, "if we can finally get past my blunder—I see I am going to have to be more careful in future which of my meaningless thought exercises I share—perhaps we can talk about something else."

I sighed. "No, tell me whatever you're thinking. I'd rather know. Don't worry about offending me, I'll get over it."

She smiled a little. "You might want to think about that a little more carefully. For instance, I have a feeling you don't want to know what I'm thinking about right now."

I frowned, turning back to her. "Well, you'd be wrong. I want to know."

Edythe's smile was rueful again. "Even if I'm wanting to turn the conversation back to our earlier conversation?"

I hesitated. "Oh." I turned away, watching the dark landscape flit by outside.

Edythe sighed. "I'm not going to try to argue any further on that. You're right, it's probably best we do it this way. I shouldn't have suggested it. It would be—very dangerous. I guess I just..." She trailed off, gazing out the front windshield with pained eyes.

"You want me to stay human a while longer," I said calmly. "You're desperate."

She glanced at me quickly, then away.

I took her hand again, holding it between mine. I wondered if there was anyone so selfless as Edythe was. Everything would be so much easier on her once I was changed. But she would go to such lengths to keep me human, just to keep me from having any regrets.

"The offer is still open," she said softly. "But I promise I won't ask again." She added with a bit of a smile, "And I promise I won't try to seduce you when we get there."

I nodded. "Thanks." We both knew what would probably happen if she did. Edythe knew it was only fair she at least leave me my free will.

"In light of that," Edythe said, and her voice was abruptly businesslike. "I suppose we ought to clearly establish our boundaries now."

I frowned slightly. "Boundaries?" I wondered for a second if she was going to make us go back to the old rules. Or make new ones. Like, we had to keep three feet of space between us at all times, and I couldn't make any sudden movements.

Edythe's grin was fox-like. "When we get there, we'll still have a few hours left until morning. I don't want to have to have this conversation after we get there. I'd say there's a few things we could do before we hit 'too dangerous.' Wouldn't you?"

I stared back at her for a second. I wasn't sure exactly what it was—maybe something about her sly expression, or the sudden immediacy of what we had been discussing—but I suddenly felt the heat flare up into my face. I was sure my skin went from normal to flaming, solid red in about two seconds flat.

Stupid. We were on our honeymoon for crying out loud, and we had already been talking around this topic for the past twenty minutes at least. But as always, the blood in my veins had a will of its own.

Edythe looked startled for a second, and then she grinned, even wider than before.

I scowled out the windshield to hide my embarrassment—as always, my reaction was way more embarrassing than the topic itself—folding my arms again.

Edythe laughed softly, reaching over to touch my face with the back of her hand. The chill of her skin against mine felt even colder than usual, almost stinging me where it touched.

"Ah," she sighed deeply. "I'll miss this."

"You mean laughing at me because I'm an idiot?" I muttered, a bit sullenly.

She laughed softly again. "No, I mean the way your skin changes color. The red spots, like flowers blooming."

I glanced at her once briefly, then away. As I suspected, there was not the least hint of embarrassment in her face. "I really am an idiot," I muttered.

Edythe turned her hand over, to cradle my jaw. She sighed again, evidently enjoying the burning heat against her cold, marble skin. When she looked at me again, she didn't laugh this time, and her eyes were more gentle than amused. "You're modest, Beau. That's nothing to be ashamed of."

I snorted to myself. "Modest. Wow, what a man I am."

She laughed. "Maybe that's not quite the right word. But some forms of masculinity are overrated. To be honest, that was one of the things I always admired about you. You never seemed to feel like you needed to prove how tough you were. In that regard, I'd say you're much less of an idiot than, say, Royal." She rolled her eyes. "No one has more of a case of over-inflated male ego than my brother."

I hesitated. I let my arms relax, a little mollified. Well, if Edythe thought it was a good thing...

Edythe gazed out the front windshield thoughtfully. "I probably seem a bit shameless," she admitted. "I would probably be more like you, except..." She turned back to me and tapped her temple. "Let's just say, when you're a mind reader attending a human high school for any length of time, eventually you have to come to a point where you realize that sex is one of the primary, dominant motivations of human nature. Or even vampire nature. I think just being around Royal and Eleanor when they first found each other showed me far more than anyone should ever be forced to see." She made a face.

I gazed at Edythe, and I felt the last bits of heat in my face fade as a new thought occurred to me. Edythe had mentioned something to this effect before, about Royal and Eleanor. But it suddenly hit me in full force the burden Edythe's power really was.

There were a lot of normal human people like me who thought mind-reading would be a really cool power to have—and Edythe's gift did grant her all kinds of advantages, both in battle, and just in dealing with people on a day-to-day basis. She always had all the information of what was really going on in a given situation, and she had helped keep her family safe for decades.

And yet—what must it be like? To live day in, day out, with a babble of voices constantly running through her mind, unable to shut out any number of obscene, disturbing thoughts people around might have. And perhaps even worse, living with family who _knew _that their every thought was being eavesdropped upon, and unable to give them privacy even if they needed it.

Without really thinking about it, I reached over and took her hand again, gripping it tightly in mine.

Edythe glanced at me, surprised. "You're not blushing anymore," she observed. "What are you thinking about now?"

I looked over at her, earnestly. I wished suddenly, stupid as it was, that I could protect her somehow. Give her mind some peace and quiet. A rest, after decades of relentless chatter. At least she couldn't hear my mind. She always said that she wished she could, but I couldn't help but think there had to be some relief in it, too.

"Where we're going," I said suddenly, "it's out in the middle of nowhere? No one for miles around?"

Edythe hesitated, apparently not sure where this question was leading. She nodded slowly. "Yes. I did wonder if we ought to choose a place nearer a town with a hospital, just in case, but El keeps her cabins fully stocked, both with food provisions and basic medical supplies. So I thought we ought to be fine."

I squeezed her hand tightly and smiled. "Great. That's good. We should get as far from everything as we can."

Edythe glanced back at me, startled by my sudden intensity.

"Let's go where it will be quiet," I said. "Just the two of us. Where it will be quiet even for you—just like our meadow."

Edythe paused for a moment, and then a slow smile spread across her lips, the full, brilliant smile that showed her dimples, and always made my heart skip several beats in my chest.

"Just the two of us," she agreed.

We were quiet for a minute then, just gazing back at one other. I realized dimly I should probably tell her she ought to be looking at the road, but I was so used to Edythe's apparently careless driving that it barely registered. I found myself thinking back again to those first few days after Port Angeles. The way, when we were alone, or in a dark classroom, a charge would seem to thrum in the air, and I would seem to fall under a spell.

Edythe's phone suddenly buzzed in her pocket, interrupting the silence. She stared at me for a second longer, surprise flitting across her face. Then she carefully pulled her hand away from mine to draw the phone from her jacket. She looked at the ID for a second, and an odd look crossed her face. Frowning slightly, she put the phone to her ear.

"...Hello?" she said cautiously.

She froze, going rigid where she sat. Her eyes stared straight ahead at the road without seeing.

I was immediately as tense as she was. Who could it be? One of her family? Was there some emergency? I strained to hear if someone else was speaking, but if they were, they spoke too low for me to hear them.

All was quiet for a long minute, then two. Edythe remained frozen in place, the phone gripped to her ear, one hand on the steering wheel, eyes staring straight ahead.

At last she said in a low, defeated voice. "Yes." A moment's pause. Then she added through gritted teeth, "Thank you."

The phone beeped as the call ended. Edythe stared down at the phone in her hand. Her eyes were slightly wide, face slack.

I wanted to ask what was going on, but at the look on her face, I was afraid to break the silence. The seconds lengthened into minutes.

"Edythe?" I said at last, in a very low, gentle voice.

Edythe blinked and abruptly unfroze. She shut the phone with a snap and slipped it back into her jacket pocket, her face suddenly a mask of cool unconcern. But her eyes were still stricken.

I swallowed, then said hesitantly, "Who...Who was that?"

Edythe was silent for a minute more, not looking at me. Then she took a deep, steadying breath. "It was Archie."

I waited for her to continue, but she didn't. At last I said, "What did he say?" Had Archie seen something? Were the Volturi coming for us after all? Or was it something else? Another mad vampire like Victor, out for revenge?

At last, Edythe finally turned her eyes to me. Her features were still composed, but I saw it in her eyes—a kind of wildness, a paralyzing terror she could not suppress. A moment later, her gaze returned to the road.

"What did he say, Edythe?" I said again, my voice soft, but insistent.

She took another deep breath, closing her eyes briefly. When at last she spoke, her voice was flat. "He just said to be careful tonight. Very careful."

I was confused. "Careful?"

Her mouth was tight. "I think...when we get there, I'm going to go hunting one more time. Before we do anything. Just to be sure." Her hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly I was surprised it was still maintaining its shape.

I blinked. "Oh." Understanding suddenly dawned on me, and I was so relieved that I blurted out without bothering with tact, "Oh—Archie saw you hurting me? Tonight?"

Edythe flinched. She didn't answer.

I looked out at the road too. Edythe was obviously upset, but I felt suddenly relaxed. If that was all it was—if Edythe was the biggest danger we had to worry about—I could deal with that.

"Yeah, we can be careful," I said bracingly. "Super careful. Maybe we can just play cards after all." I turned to grin at her, but she didn't look at me.

"So," I said after a moment. "Was this like a sure vision, or just a possibility?"

"I don't know!" she snapped, and her harsh tone made me flinch away, startled.

We drove in silence for several minutes.

At last some of the tension in her posture slowly faded, and she whispered, "I'm sorry."

I looked over to see her shoulders were bent, her head bowed over the steering wheel. She looked like she was about to cry.

I reached over and put a hand over one of hers again, where it was still gripping the steering wheel.

"Look, it's okay," I said. "Everything's fine. We can totally be careful. I mean, we'll have a good time no matter what so long as we're together, right? We don't have to push it, if you're worried something might go wrong. We can play board games, and go hiking... You can show me those flowers." I did my best to smile reassuringly.

Edythe turned to look at me again, and her face was twisted in a look of such agony that for a second my breathing stopped.

Then she turned back to the road, breathing deeply through her nose. However, I wasn't sure if she was trying to steady herself, or if it was a way to intentionally torture herself with my scent. It was another long minute before she spoke.

"Yeah," she said at last in a strained, hollow voice. "Everything's okay."

She didn't say anything more, and I turned my eyes back to the dark window.

* * *

A/N: And, there's the first part of these two important chapters. This one ended up being a bit heavy on conversations; I wanted to get a bit of the vibe back from their dynamic all the way back in Life and Death (and Midnight Sun), but might have pushed a bit far on that.

Next chapter's going to be a major one. I've been working on it in conjunction with this one for a long time, and it's gone through quite a bit of revision and editing. In any case, if you have a moment, let me know what you thought, and hope to see you next time! C:

Posted 9/16/19


	7. Pawn

A/N: Hey guys! Made it back again, and a long one this time.

Again, a slightly higher T rating this chapter than usual when it comes to the sexual themes of this story, though much less so than the original Breaking Dawn. (Again, on my reasoning on that, there will be a little more discussion at the end of this chapter.)

As always, thanks so much for reading, and for staying with me all this time—I hope you'll enjoy it even if it's not quite the same as the equivalent in Breaking Dawn, this chapter is definitely a major one. Thanks again, and hope to see you at the end!

* * *

Chapter 6: Pawn

I was so busy watching Edythe out of the corner of my eye at first I didn't notice when we turned onto a gravel road. Only when we passed onto a road that looked like it hadn't been serviced in the last fifty years and I felt myself bouncing against the seat like a jackhammer did I notice as we passed into a more rural area, and I figured we must be getting close.

I tried to think of what I would say when we got there. Every time I glanced at Edythe, she still seemed upset, and I tried to figure out a way to make her feel better. A part of my brain knew I should be hugely disappointed by this development—and maybe I was, the sort-of honeymoon Edythe had been talking about had sounded a lot better than playing card games—but at the moment, the look on Edythe's face pushed out every other thought except finding a way to cheer her up, and make sure the night was still a good memory.

I couldn't see a whole lot as Edythe turned us onto a small, barely visible side road, and wound our way through thick forest. The road seemed to get narrower and narrower, branches brushing up against the windows, until suddenly the claustrophobic forest opened up onto a small dirt clearing.

The space was covered in even gravel, and it was obviously human made. However, it was overgrown with weeds, and clearly hadn't been maintained for years. It was a dead end, with forest on every side, and Edythe finally brought us to a stop at the very edge. She cut the engine short and pulled the key from the ignition in a sharp, jerky movement.

I looked around for Eleanor's cabin, but I didn't see anything but dark forest. "Um, where is it?" I said. I spoke in a low rasp after being quiet for so long.

"It's still a ways up," she answered in a dull, almost mechanical voice. "It's not far. But we'll be running part of the way."

"Oh." I glanced apprehensively at the dark forest. "What about our luggage?"

"I can carry one of your bags. Archie packed a few changes of clothes and the essentials. I'll get the others on the way back when I come back from hunting."

I nodded as I reached into the backseat to pull out my duffel. I climbed out of the cab to find Edythe already outside waiting, her back to me. I noticed her eyes were narrowed and scanning the forest, like she expected some enemy to come charging out from the underbrush.

Wordlessly, without my usual complaints, I clambered up onto her back, keeping a tight hold on the strap of my duffel as I swung it around to rest over my shoulder.

Without saying anything, Edythe abruptly took off up the incline like a lightning bolt.

The thick trees blocked out the sky overhead, and it was too dark to see much of anything as low-lying branches whipped past. I wasn't afraid like I had been that first time riding on Edythe's back. I had long contented myself with the fact Edythe knew what she was doing, but still the tense queasiness of the mood churned in my stomach.

The trees suddenly ended, and Edythe came to an abrupt halt. There was just enough ambient light now from the stars above that I could just make out the vague outline of an enormous structure—when Edythe had said _cabin_ I'd been expecting something a little different. Something a bit rustic, perhaps with a stump outside for chopping firewood. This looked more like a luxury resort house.

As I gazed up at the multi-levels of tastefully blended woods, I wanted to ask if Earnest had had a hand in the design. However, I could just make out Edythe's face in the low light, and still her expression remained impassive, immovable as a stone wall.

I desperately wanted to say something to break the tension, and make everything easy and normal again. But I knew from experience that when Edythe got like this, it could be hard to get her out of it.

Edythe approached, pausing to draw a key out from under a decorative stone beside the low porch, and opened the door with a click.

The eerie quiet of the surrounding forest combined with the dark of the house made me swallow, and I half expected something to come jumping out at us as we stood on the threshold.

As though reading my thoughts, Edythe was surprisingly cautious. She stood in front of me, preventing me from proceeding for a moment, and her eyes swept the shadows, like she was looking for something. However, after a moment she let out a breath that sounded almost like a sigh and went on in. I followed her a moment later.

I considered asking if she was all right, but just then Edythe reached back to close the door behind me, a moment before hitting the light switch.

The air left my lungs in a surprised gasp—if there was any doubt in my mind that the place was designed by Earnest, it was gone.

_Lodge _would probably be a better description than _cabin_. The front room opened up in a broad space, with an assortment of big leather armchairs scattered in front of a stone fireplace and large flat-screen TV on one side, and a full kitchen with a minibar on the other. Elaborately woven carpets lay over the wood floors, along with highly realistic, exquisite nature paintings on every wall—a bear catching a fish in its teeth, a high waterfall crashing on rocks of a stream, a crimson sunset on a field of flowers. At the center of it all was a twisting set of wooden stairs that led to a second floor.

Almost everything in the room, from the floors to the coffee table and end tables beside the armchairs, were wood, a deeply stained oak. It was the perfectly sophisticated blend of modern convenience and rugged backwoods style. It could have been ripped straight from the pages of Back Country, and I idly wondered exactly what sort of provisions Eleanor kept the place stocked with. I was suddenly picturing all the most expensive nuts and dried fruits known to man, shipped in from South America.

McKayla's parents and many of their other outdoor-enthusiast customers would probably kill to have a vacation home like this, though I wondered vaguely how on earth Eleanor had gotten power up here for this kind of setup out in the middle of nowhere. Maybe she had installed her own generator nearby—that seemed the most practical, if you had an unlimited supply of funds.

The place was, in short, unbelievable, and I made up my mind to do some exploring later, when I got the chance. I knew I'd probably be enjoying this a lot more if Edythe wasn't looking so grim.

I decided my goal for the night was to try to get Edythe out of the funk she'd worked herself into, and make this all as easy as possible on her. So long as we were together we could have fun no matter what we were doing, I was sure. What wouldn't be fun was if Edythe let herself wallow in guilt and self-loathing all night.

I set my duffel on the floor by the door and headed over to the big flat screen. Beside it was a massive bank of DVDs, arranged alphabetically by title.

"Hey," I said, trying to inject some enthusiasm into my voice. "We could make it into another movie night." I scanned the titles, looking for something that I recognized or jumped out at me. I noticed a section dedicated to National Geographic stuff, and maybe it was just the setting of the woods and the lodge, but suddenly that sounded kind of good. One yellow case with the head of a mountain lion on the spine caught my eye, and I drew it out, turning it over to scan the back.

I turned around to grin at Edythe as I flashed her the cover. "You can tell me if this is really anything at all like you hunt."

Edythe had been watching me, her expression smooth, unreadable, and though she smiled back, it didn't reach her eyes.

I sighed deeply, letting the hand holding the DVD drop down to my side. It was starting to look like the only way I was going to get Edythe out of this mood was if I guilted her into it.

"Are you going to be like this all night?" I asked bluntly.

Edythe flinched slightly, then her gaze dropped.

Sighing again, I put the DVD back in its slot and crossed the room back to where she stood. I delicately placed my hands on her shoulders and bent slightly, trying to get her to look me in the eye.

"Look," I said. "Don't worry about whatever Archie said. It's not going to happen. We're both on our guard now. We don't have to do anything you feel like is a risk." I leaned down slowly, until my forehead was pressed against hers. I let my eyes slide closed. "I told you before," I murmured. "This is enough."

I didn't feel any change in Edythe's posture beneath my hands, and after a minute, I opened my eyes again.

Edythe's face was cast in shadow by the light of the elaborate glass lamp that hung from the ceiling. But her golden eyes were an inch from my own, and I could still see them clearly—wide, staring back at me with a suddenly wild desperation.

The look made my insides contract. It reminded me of a trapped animal, terrified and powerless. Only I saw in the set of her jaw anger, too. I could see it all swirling in her eyes—guilt, self-disgust, self-hatred—like a raging storm.

Then the look was gone and her face was smooth again. She reached up and cradled my face between her icy hands. "Beau," she said softly, with such love and tenderness that I felt my body automatically relax. She gazed up at me with eyes like liquid gold.

"Beau," she murmured again. "Would you believe that I love you more than anything? In spite of everything I've put you through?"

I hesitated. I did believe her, but what she was saying and the intensity with which she said it caused my mind to flicker back to another memory from before. Just before we had had to part so she could go hunt down Joss.

I let my hands drop from her shoulders, and wrapped my arms around her waist instead, trying to make sure she stayed with me. I realized a second too late that I'd already forgotten we were trying to be careful.

Almost the moment I touched her, I drew back again. "Sorry," I said hurriedly. "Sorry, I forgot."

However, Edythe didn't let me pull away. Instead, her cool hands, which had been holding my face, shifted, so her arms wound around my back instead. She closed her eyes and pressed her ear to my chest, right above my heart. She breathed deeply, as I knew she was listening to the sound of my heartbeat.

I was definitely in a nostalgic mood tonight, and my mind drifted back, back to that first time in the meadow. Those moments she had been testing herself, seeing how much she could stand. As I had then, I held very still.

At last Edythe pulled away, staring up into my face. She had relaxed slightly, but there was still something in her eyes that made me feel uneasy.

"I'm going to go out for a little while," she said softly. "I'm going to go hunting one more time."

The thought of her leaving right now was painful. Automatically I found myself reaching out to grab her by the wrist. I tried to keep my voice upbeat as I said, "You just hunted last night. Like I said, we can make it a movie night again. You wouldn't have to go then, right?" Embarrassingly, my studied nonchalant tone broke at the end.

Edythe stared back up at my face for a second, but before I could get a good look at her expression, she leaned up to put her lips close to my ear. Her wintry breath tickled my skin. "I won't be gone long. Maybe twenty minutes. That will give you enough time to eat something too, you haven't eaten all day."

"But—" I tried to argue.

Edythe pulled back slightly, and I suddenly felt her icy lips against mine. When she drew away, she pulled her wrist easily from my slack grip.

"Twenty minutes," she breathed, and the scent of her breath in my face muddled my thoughts. I was having trouble holding onto my will to help her be careful.

"You really have to?" I asked.

Edythe smiled, though again her eyes were still tight. "Every little bit will help. And...I might need a few moments to think."

I nodded slowly. Taking a short breath, I took a step back. "Hurry back." I couldn't help but add, "Hopefully an ax murderer doesn't get me while you're gone."

Edythe's serious, pleading expression turned to a scowl. "Very funny, Beau."

"I'm just saying, this seems like the perfect setting for a horror movie."

"Are you questioning my taste in honeymoon venues?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. She pretended to be offended, but underneath, she actually sounded worried, and for a second she seemed to forget about Archie's vision.

I laughed. "It's awesome. It actually puts me in the mood to go hiking, I didn't think there was a place in the world that could do that. It's kind of got a magical vibe—at least when you're here. The whole horror, alone-in-the-middle-of-the-woods part only comes in when you're gone."

I half expected Edythe to make some dark comment about how she was the most dangerous thing to me within a hundred miles, the kind of comment she used to make all the time in the beginning. But she didn't. Instead, she just gazed at me, with eyes torn between tenderness and agony. Then she shook her head, and her expression returned to neutral.

"There's plenty of food in the cupboards," she said. "Lots of jerky and other dried meat, but quite a few others things, too. We always make sure to keep up appearances. The bedroom's upstairs, and there's a shower in the adjacent bathroom if you need it. The thermostat in the bedroom is just left of the door if you get uncomfortable."

I nodded. "Thanks."

Edythe reached up and touched my cheek. Again I saw in her eyes a flicker of the warring emotions, both love and pain. "I'll be back soon," she whispered.

Then she was gone, leaving me standing alone in the lodge front room.

I checked my watch. Two-seventeen A.M. Which meant she would be back at two-forty-seven, almost three. I stood there for a moment longer. Then, sighing, I hefted my duffel and headed up the stairs.

The bedroom was just as extravagant as the front room downstairs. It was so huge, I was sure it took up half the second floor. I checked the closet, and it alone was at least the size of my room and Charlie's back home combined. Mostly filled with sleek, designer clothes that I figured must be Royal's—I backed out pretty quickly.

There was a wide, oak dresser in the corner, of the same deeply stained surface as all the décor downstairs, and a huge mirror mounted on top. A rugged rocking chair sat in the corner, beside yet another stone fireplace, like the one downstairs. But of course, the main point of focus in the room was the bed at the center. Easily a king size, huge and lavish. As I peeled back the first layer, which was a deep burgundy, I found silk sheets with a gold-threaded hem beneath.

I wondered briefly if the fact Edythe had decided to push herself to go hunting again meant she was going to ignore Archie's warning, and go ahead with the plan to push our normal boundaries. It seemed doubtful, given how shaken up Edythe still seemed, but surrounded by a setting like this, it was hard to hold onto my resolve to help her keep us responsible. I shook my head, trying to get a hold of myself.

I'd just taken a shower earlier that morning, but I figured I could use another one after traveling all day. And I should probably brush my teeth, and comb my hair. Whatever Edythe was going to do, I figured I might as well be prepared. And maybe I should eat something too, I was pretty famished now that I took the time to notice—I suddenly wondered if twenty minutes would be enough preparation time.

As I stepped inside the frosted glass shower stall and let the rush of hot water pound against my skull, as always, my thoughts whirled in circles. What would happen now—how we would spend this short time we had left to spend as vampire and human, how I would be when I was changed. If Edythe would ever be completely free of the guilt I seemed to always be inflicting on her. I was glad now I hadn't gone for her deal—with Archie's call, she just would have gone back on it anyway. She would go back on a thousand deals if it meant making sure I stayed whole and safe. Better that I didn't have to make her feel worse.

I stepped out of the shower and, wrapping a towel around my waist, headed out to the bedroom to retrieve the bedclothes Archie had stocked in my duffel, which I'd laid out across the bed. Silk pajamas of a dark steel gray, which would have looked more appropriate on a company president or rich diplomat than me. Of course, I'd figured all the clothes Archie would have packed for me would be designer, so that wasn't much of a surprise.

However, I paused on the way, as I heard a faint buzzing sound. I bent to the clothes I'd discarded on the floor, the slacks and collared shirt I'd worn under the suit jacket at the wedding ceremony, and drew out the phone Edythe had given me where I'd kept it in my pocket. It was buzzing insistently—I must not have heard it over the pounding of the showerhead.

For a second, I wondered if it was Archie, calling me with another warning like the one he had given Edythe. In spite of my best intentions, the silk sheets of the bed and musky smell of the wood made it hard to think clearly. However, as I looked at the ID, I didn't recognize the number.

Gingerly, I opened the phone and punched the receive button.

"Hello," I said cautiously. "This is Beau Swan."

"Beau," said a gentle, distinctly female voice. "I'm so glad I could get a hold of you."

I hesitated. The voice sounded familiar, but I couldn't immediately place it.

"May I ask who's calling?" I inquired, trying to keep my voice polite.

"Of course," said the voice. "How rude of me. If you remember, we met this past spring. My name is Sulpicia."

Something icy plunged into my stomach. Images flickered in my mind—a dim, circular stone chamber, rows of vampires in long dark cloaks. A series of looming thrones, a figure with long, dark hair and misty eyes with flickers of crimson in their depths.

Sulpicia continued, "Edythe isn't there right now. Is that correct?"

My mouth was dry. I couldn't speak.

"I say, is that correct?" she repeated pleasantly.

"Yes," I croaked.

"Good," she said. "Excellent. Then we may speak freely."

I swallowed hard and managed to say in a hoarse voice, "What do you want?"

"You're not a vampire yet," she said softly. And somehow, the gentleness of her tone made it all the more menacing.

"S-Soon," I stuttered. "It's going to be soon."

"No," Sulpicia said softly. "Not soon. Now. Tonight."

I froze where I was. I couldn't breathe.

Sulpicia continued, "It will be Edythe to change you, of course. But you must ensure Edythe is unaware you and I have spoken."

I finally came to life enough to shake my head. "It... would never work. She won't agree to it."

"She will," Sulpicia said softly. "I have already spoken to her, and she will do it, so long as you are amenable. In fact, she will be the one to broach the topic."

I stood there for several seconds, stunned. Then it suddenly hit with the weight of a boulder.

That call Edythe had told me was from Archie had never been from Archie at all. It was Sulpicia. All those looks of guilt and self-loathing weren't from a terror of hurting me, but from giving in to Sulpicia. Edythe was hunting to prepare herself to taste my blood again—or maybe she just needed the time to collect herself, figure out how to ask. Or maybe Sulpicia had just strongly recommended the hunt, for the purpose of getting in this call.

Edythe had once told me she wouldn't change me out of fear, because it was forced on me and I didn't have a choice—what must she be feeling now, with Sulpicia backing her into a corner?

"You will change," Sulpicia said again, gently. "As Edythe already knows, if you do not... well, Cato and Tacita may not be able to track you, but they can certainly track Edythe, and they will find you both, wherever you may go. And I do not take having my express instructions disobeyed...lightly."

I shook my head. My hand gripping the phone was shaking. "And—" I managed to choke out. "That's all you want? Me to change? And once I do—you'll leave us alone?"

I could almost picture Sulpicia's kind smile. "I'm afraid not. Once you are changed, I have a second set of instructions for you, of which Edythe must remain entirely unaware."

"What?" I whispered.

"After the transformation, you will come to see me. And you will leave in such a way that Edythe will not follow you. I think your best option is to make her believe you are abandoning her—that you _choose_ not to be with her. If you are able to make her believe that, she will let you go."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. It didn't make any sense. "Why?" My voice was raw.

"The why is not important right now."

I shook my head. This was insane. Madness. And somehow, at that thought, I felt some of my nerve return.

"I'll change," I said, as calmly as I could. "And I'll come meet you then. But I won't hurt Edythe that way. I'll tell her the truth."

"No," Sulpicia said sharply, and suddenly the facade of gentility and politeness was gone. "This is not a negotiation. You will change, and you will leave Edythe, leaving her unaware of the precise nature of the situation. If you tell her the truth, do you think she'll let you come to me—alone? If she comes with you, I will break her. If you both try to run from me, Cato and Tacita will track her and we will still break her. Do you understand?"

I was silent. My head was spinning. However, beneath the terror of Sulpicia and her powers that seemed to be pounding in my chest, in my brain, I felt another feeling rise. A silent defiance. Could Edythe and I get away if we ran? Edythe was resourceful, and I couldn't be tracked. And wasn't Sulpicia supposed to be preoccupied dealing with some other threat in Europe?

"Maybe I can tell you something that will put your present situation in more perspective," Sulpicia said. Her voice was once again amiable, compassionate, like a sympathetic teacher giving helpful advice. "I know what you're thinking. Your Edythe is clever—she might be able to evade me, at least for a time. That is a possibility. But I think it is only fair to tell you—if you fail to come to me as I have asked, I _will_ kill her."

I blinked, not following the logic. "Edythe?" I said slowly, uncertainly.

"No," Sulpicia answered, and the word was almost a sigh. "Your friend I have here with me. The wolf shape-shifter. I believe you call her...Jules Black?"

An electric jolt in the pit of my stomach nearly made the phone slip from my fingers, and for several seconds I couldn't breathe, couldn't think. It couldn't be.

At last I found my voice enough to whisper numbly,

"What...are you talking about?"

"Oh, I think you already know," Sulpicia murmured. "You know I'm telling you the truth. Julie Black is here, with me. And if you don't want her to come to any harm, you will follow my instructions."

My hand gripping the phone was slick with sweat. "Put her on," I demanded.

"She's not conscious at the moment," Sulpicia said. "We could try to revive her, if you wish, but she has not been particularly cooperative."

I tried to swallow, but I couldn't. How could I know? How could I know Sulpicia was telling the truth?

I opened my mouth to speak, but a memory suddenly flashed in my mind. My bachelor party at the movies, what suddenly seemed like a lifetime ago. Archie—his visions surrounding Sulpicia had gone black. Just like my future always did around the wolves.

"When?" I said in a low, hoarse voice. "When did you...when did she..."

"How long have we been holding her?" Sulpicia completed. "Not long. A little over a day. I would say that's just as well where her wellbeing is concerned—I don't know how much longer she'll survive us." Her tone was light, almost teasing.

I could barely breathe, but I forced myself to think. A little over a day. Exactly the time Archie had told me his visions of Sulpicia had disappeared.

I couldn't speak as the reality crashed over me. I couldn't feel my hand on the phone. I stared straight ahead, seeing nothing but the image of Jules, curled on the ground at Sulpicia's feet. Beaten. Helpless.

"Do you understand?" Sulpicia asked again.

I forced myself to swallow. "Yes," I whispered.

"You understand that if you fail to comply with my precise instructions that either your friend Julie Black or your mate will likely suffer the consequences?" she asked.

I was frozen where I was, my feet rooted to the spot. There was something about the way Sulpicia spoke, succinct and businesslike, that made me feel like I was signing a binding contract. No, that I was already in one.

I swallowed again. I wanted to make sure I knew what she was asking. "So...you want me to change...and then get Edythe to let me leave. And I'll come find you."

"Once you are away from Edythe, you will call me back at this number," Sulpicia said.

"And then...you'll let Jules go?"

"The two of you will be reunited," Sulpicia replied gently.

Her revised answer was answer enough. I imagined what Jules must feel like, surrounded by vampires with crimson eyes, their prisoner. It would be bad enough for someone like me, who didn't harbor an innate hatred of all vampires. I could only imagine how much worse it would be for her when I showed up, a bloodsucker like all the others.

I wondered just what Sulpicia hoped to achieve through all this. It was like every one of her demands was designed to hurt the people I cared about most in the worst way possible. Was that what this was about? Did she get bored after ruling the vampire world century after century, and periodically just pick someone out at random to toy around with?

I didn't have time to waste dwelling on that—Sulpicia was the one with all the cards here. She was the one in control.

"You better not hurt her," I said, though my shaking voice came out more like a plea than the threat I meant.

"That is not our intent," Sulpicia murmured. "You have nothing to fear, Beau—so long as you do as I say, no permanent harm will befall her. In three days' time, you will call me. And you will come."

For a second, something caught in my throat, and I couldn't speak. A sudden fear had gripped my chest. Three days. Three days of pain, and then I would wake up as a vampire. But what if I wasn't myself? What if, when I changed, Jules was suddenly no more than a dog to me, and I didn't care what happened to her? What if I was a monster—a _real _monster?

But I knew there was nothing to be done about that, and so I only said, "I will. In three days."

"I will be waiting," Sulpicia answered. "And remember, Beau—not one word to Edythe. She cannot know why you are leaving."

My voice was barely audible as I agreed. "No." No, she couldn't.

The line cut short.

I stood there for a second, staring at nothing, and I couldn't feel my body. At last I felt myself slowly sink down onto the edge of the bed, and the phone slipped through my fingers, hitting the decorative rug with a low thud.

I remembered this feeling as I spoke on another phone once before. The hopelessness, the despair, the terror.

"_I'm going to need you to get away from your friends; do you think you can do that?"_

I shivered at the echo of Joss's voice in my mind. It was almost eerie, how precisely the same this all was. Only the players were different. It was Edythe I had to get away from, Jules I had to save. And Sulpicia pulling the strings.

Before, Joss had duped me. She never really had my mother, but I had fallen for her games. I hadn't told Edythe or anyone else the truth, but acted on my own, and nearly gotten myself killed.

_You should have waited for me, Beau,_ the memory of Edythe's voice whispered._ You should have told me. _Was I about to do the exact same thing I had done before?

Yes. I was. Because, just like before, even if it was somehow just a trick, I had no way of knowing that, and I couldn't gamble Jules's life on that possibility. And, just like before, I knew I couldn't tell Edythe the truth, even if Sulpicia hadn't forbidden it. Because I knew Sulpicia was right, and if I did, Edythe wouldn't let me go.

Was I going to be able to play my part right? Could I keep Edythe from suspecting anything?

I knew what the answer was—no, I couldn't. I saw as my gaze flickered toward the mirror mounted on the dresser that my eyes were wide and wild with panic, and according to the clock, I had barely eight minutes before Edythe had said she would be back. I had never been a good actor even at the best of times, and under circumstances like these, it was all but hopeless.

My answer was no—just like it had been to Joss. And I knew, just as it had been with Joss, I had to change that answer. I had to be able to do it, whether it was possible or not. Or Jules, my best friend who was practically family, would pay the price.

I took a deep breath, then got up from the bed and calmly got dressed in the pajamas Archie had packed for me. I retrieved my phone, slipping it into my duffel and turning it off—so long as it was out of view and wouldn't ring, there shouldn't be any reason for it to attract Edythe's attention, or lead her to check the history. I wasn't sure I could trust myself to remember Sulpicia's number after three days of burning pain, so I would have to keep it in there.

Next, I went downstairs, pulling out the DVD I had been looking at earlier and setting it on a side table, as though I believed there might still be a possibility we would watch it. My stomach was too tense to eat, but I drew a package of beef jerky out of the cupboard and opened it, as though perhaps I had been snacking a little.

I returned back up to the bedroom, and went to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I stared into the mirror, and the sky blue eyes looking back were intense and determined. I spent a few minutes concentrating, forcing my expression to relax.

It was a good thing, because as I returned to the bedroom, I found Edythe already there waiting for me, sitting on the end of the bed, our suitcases set out beside it. I paused for a fraction of a second in mid-step, but that was all the reaction I showed as I continued on into the room.

I glanced casually toward the clock. "Two minutes early," I noted. "Get anything good? Any coyotes?"

"Elk, mainly," she answered, smiling a bit. "Coyotes aren't worth the trouble. They're too small."

I studied her eyes, and I tried to decide whether they really looked more gold than they had earlier. Had she really gone hunting, or had she been out scouting the immediate area, making sure none of Sulpicia's minions were close by?

We were both quiet. The silence lengthened, and the atmosphere seemed to grow heavy and strained again.

That was good. That was how it should be, if Edythe was going to ask me what she had to ask. But how was she going to lead into it? How was she going to make me think this was her idea, after how hard she had tried to get me to stay human? She wouldn't tell me about the looming threat of Sulpicia, I was pretty sure about that. Sulpicia had probably ordered her not to, and anyway, she wouldn't want me to make my decision out of fear of some threat. She would take the entire burden of this situation on herself, as always.

"So," I said at last. "What are we doing?" I was surprised by how calm I sounded. And I felt calm—almost supernaturally calm. Like before, I knew what had to happen, the plan I had to follow, and there was suddenly no more room for panic.

Edythe glanced at me without meeting my eyes, then got up from the bed and went to the window. She folded her arms, gazing out over the dark forest. She didn't answer.

After a moment, I went to stand beside her. I could see our dark reflections in the glass, hers, perfect and beautiful as always, even with her face twisted in conflict, and mine, gangly and ordinary. We'd never looked like a good match.

"Edythe?" I said at last.

She let out a breath. "Beau," she said softly. "Tell me. Why is it you want to change?"

I hesitated. At the moment, all my focus was on protecting her and saving Jules. But, I had already decided on this anyway. I reached back for all my reasons.

"I want to be with you," I said at last.

"You can be with me without becoming a vampire," she said quietly.

I paused. I wondered why she was saying this. How long was she going to take to get to the crux of the matter?

"I'm always a liability," I said. "We've had a lot of close calls, and—it would be nice if that stopped."

"I can be more careful," she murmured. "I can keep you safe."

I sighed. "That's the other thing. I don't want you to always have to protect me, Edythe." I wrapped my arm around her waist from behind. "I want to protect you sometimes." I hesitated, then added softly, "I want to be your partner...not your pet."

Edythe flinched at the word. Her eyes met mine in the reflection, before her gaze dropped, as she too thought of the cutting words she had spoken to me when she had left Forks. Telling me that she had never really loved me, that I had been more like a pampered pet than a real lover. She had done all that to try to protect me from the danger of being around her, tried so desperately to keep it from coming to this point—to keep me human.

I knew even as I said it how cruel it was. To bring up the past that was so much more painful to her than it was even to me. But even crueler were the things about love and partnership. How cruel it was to say such things when I knew that, when I was remade, I was just going to betray her in the end.

She closed her eyes for a moment. Then they opened again, and she turned in my arms to gaze up into my face. "You don't have to," she whispered. "If you want to stay human, Beau, I swear, you don't have to change. I'll make it possible."

Her eyes were wide with desperation, with anguish, as she went on in a rush, "You don't understand. The strength, the beauty, the natural talent—they're meaningless. No, they're part of the curse. You have no idea how hard it is _not_ to be a monster, when you have these kinds of powers. Without Carine to guide us, every single one of us would be—you have no idea, the constant struggle. The effort. The will you have to exert, so that your mere existence doesn't destroy the lives of others."

She went on, in a voice lower still, "Every single one of us would do anything to be human again. To live without the constant danger of failure, of giving in to our basest instincts. Beau, are you really ready to give up what you have, before you can fully appreciate what you're losing?"

I stared back into her eyes. Why was she telling me this? Defying Sulpicia would mean the rest of our lives would be spent on the run. It meant we would probably both die soon.

I remembered suddenly the terror in her eyes as, what felt like an age ago, I had asked her why she didn't want me to change. Deep down, she did want me to change. Everything would be better for her when I did. But she wanted what was best for me more than she wanted what she wanted. And right now, even trapped as we were, she wanted me to have a choice. She wanted me to understand absolutely everything, before I made a decision I couldn't take back.

In this moment, I loved her as much as I had ever loved her. She was so beautiful, so good. For just a second, I forgot all about Sulpicia and her threats, what would happen to Jules if I didn't do what Sulpicia said—and this was all I wanted. To join Edythe in her world. I knew the hardships that waited for me—the sacrifices—and I was ready to make them all. I was ready to endure it all day by day, for the pure of joy of simply being with her, and lessening her hardship.

"I've made up my mind," I said quietly, earnestly. My arm, still holding her around the waist, tightened. I gazed deep into her golden eyes. "Believe me, Edythe," I said softly, "I've thought and thought and thought about all this. I know what I'm giving up, and I'm not taking it lightly. You've given me other options, but it doesn't change anything. I want to be with you—like you, together in your world."

I gripped her hand in mine, holding it to my chest. "I'm ready, Edythe."

Edythe gazed up at me, her eyes filled with emotion. "I don't deserve you," she murmured. "But...I suppose so long as I'm going to hell anyway..." The corner of her lips twitched in a half-smile, at the irony of what she had once said what now felt so long ago, but there was no amusement in her eyes.

I did my best to look questioning, and I prodded gently after a moment, "What is it Edythe?" I knew she didn't want to say it—but she had to. We were both pawns in Sulpicia's twisted game, and we each had our part to play.

Edythe closed her eyes for a moment, leaning her head briefly into my shoulder—before they opened again. "Would you ever forgive me if—if I asked you for something unbearably selfish?"

"You can ask me anything, Edythe."

I watched her as her eyes dropped from mine.

"I shouldn't," she murmured. She added, "And here, Julie Black was supposed to be the impulsive one." She laughed without humor.

I let go of her waist, though our hands remained joined. I placed my other hand over hers, holding it gently between mine.

"What is it you want me to do, Edythe? Tell me. You know I'll do it if I can."

She sighed. Then she drew in a deep, silent breath. Finally, she lifted her gaze, forcing her eyes to meet mine. Again the self-loathing burned in her eyes, but I saw determination there, too. Resolve.

"You told me you wanted to change after our honeymoon, maybe in a few weeks. But...what about right now?"

I stared back at her. She had said it. Now, how was I supposed to respond? How would I have responded if I wasn't expecting this?

I didn't break my gaze away from hers. I blinked, and held myself very still. It seemed a believable reaction—surely I wouldn't know how to respond at first, and be afraid of having the wrong one.

The seconds ticked by. Edythe gazed at me as she waited for me to say something.

At last, trying to keep my voice casual, I said, "What brought this on?"

Edythe gazed back at me for a long moment. I could see the conflict in her eyes—was she considering telling me the truth?

At last, her gaze dropped from mine once again.

"Archie," she began slowly.

"You mean his vision today," I said, trying to help her.

She sighed, and she still didn't meet my eyes. When she spoke again, her voice was barely above a whisper. "I'm so tired. I'm tired of my love for you being something dangerous. I don't want to put you in danger anymore."

She spoke to me slowly, haltingly. She seemed to have to work to force out every word of the necessary lie.

Or—was it a lie? Perhaps I knew the real reason behind what had forced her to say all this—but after all, the best deceptions always had some element of truth. I could only imagine the deep weariness from the endless worry, the exhaustion—something she never would have admitted to except for the purpose of saving me.

Still, Edythe was acting on Sulpicia's instructions, performing an elaborate game of playacting. It was all so strangely surreal—knowing that I would have been oblivious to Edythe's real struggle without Sulpicia revealing the truth beneath it all beforehand. Surreal to see the two of us brought so quickly to lying to each other so completely, so soon after being bound in a way that should have brought us closer together, that ought to have finally eliminated the remaining secrets between us.

I stared down into her face, and I waited until at last her eyes flicked back up to mine before I answered.

"I'm ready."

Her golden eyes searched mine, studying my face. Looking for signs of uncertainty or doubt.

Apparently she found none. She nodded once, and her icy hand gripped mine.

"Jessamine will be annoyed with me," she murmured, almost to herself. "She would say it's too big a risk, to do this on my own, without the others around. But—Carine had to do it with me. And even though newborns are more powerful, they're also fueled by emotion, and so more predictable. And I was rather worried that if you woke up with so many of our kind around, it might spook you."

I felt my mouth grow dry. I hadn't thought about that—of course our plan would have involved all the Cullens, standing by in case I went berserk. If I woke up not myself—would I end up killing people before Edythe could stop me? Or could Edythe herself be in danger?

If it wasn't for Sulpicia, I knew I would have told Edythe it was better if we went back to Forks, had all the Cullens around. Even with the risk that Edythe's mood might change and she might not be so for it later, I would be too worried for Edythe and everyone else to risk it. But that wasn't an option—even if Sulpicia would have given us the time to travel back, I knew getting away from Edythe was going to be hard enough, but it would be just about impossible with all the Cullens involved, especially Archie and Jessamine.

So instead I just nodded and said, "I know you'll be able to handle me, Edythe. And if I do wake up as a tantrum-throwing brat for awhile—I think I'll be glad Eleanor's not around to make fun of me."

A hint of a smile touched Edythe's lips, before her expression twisted back into one of such agony I had to fight not to flinch away.

"It's going to be painful," she whispered, gripping my hands between hers. "You know how painful—you had a taste of it before. In the past, it's taken about three days. But I'll try to get my venom as close to your heart as I can. And if I inject the venom at multiple points—that may speed up the process."

I started to nod again, then hesitated. "Won't that be hard for you? Getting my blood in your mouth?"

She paused. "Beau," she said, very seriously. "You know how paranoid I am. So it should tell you something that, of the things I am currently anxious about, on a scale of one to ten my losing control and killing you by accident is about negative five thousand. I won't lose control, I'm sure of that. It's not even a possibility."

"I know you won't," I said. "I just mean—won't that mean you're in pain? Actually tasting it and having to resist, I mean. Maybe you should just bite me once."

Edythe stared back at me, slightly incredulous. "Trust me, Beau," she said. "Whatever pain I'm in—negligible, really—it will be absolutely nothing next to what you'll be going through. You'll be glad for every second we can make this go faster. A little dryness in my throat will be the last thing on my mind."

I didn't reply.

Edythe's cool hands were still holding mine.

"Are you ready?" she asked gently. "You should lay down on the bed. It won't make you more comfortable, but—I'll be right here. I won't leave you."

I nodded slowly, then took a deep breath. "Yeah. Okay." I paused. "Um, but do you think you could leave me alone for a minute?"

Edythe hesitated, and though she didn't answer, I could see the question in her eyes.

"I just want to change," I explained. I pinched the material of my silk pajamas. "I guess I won't be sleeping much tonight, so I don't really need these. And I'd rather wake up on the other side fully dressed, so I'm not running around in my nightwear." I forced a smile as I added, "That's something else Eleanor would probably never let me live down."

Edythe opened her mouth—perhaps to argue the idiocy of caring about what I was wearing when I was about to damn my soul and be bedridden with agony for days—but then she closed it again. She nodded once.

"I'll give you a minute," she murmured. Then she slipped back out the door, closing it behind her, and I heard her footsteps descend the stairs. She must have made the noise on purpose, to let me know she was giving me a moment of privacy.

I headed over to the duffel Archie had packed for me, and drew out some of the clothes he had put together for me. A pair of thick cargo pants, the kind with lots of pockets for storage, and an athletic shirt, made of a cool, slippery material specifically made for the summer heat. I recognized a famous outdoor brand in the logo on the chest.

I quickly changed into them, then dug around in the bag for the one last thing I had seen earlier. I finally drew it out—a light jacket, the same brand as the shirt, with removable sleeves that could be zipped off to become a vest, and about a dozen hidden pockets on the inside, for every kind of item a hiker might need on the trail, including one for chapstick and another for sunglasses. However, it was the small, rectangular pocket on the inside left that was the perfect size for a cell phone that I was after.

I grabbed the phone I had stashed in the duffel. I noticed the pocket had a lining inside I suspected was waterproof, but I dug around until I found a small plastic bag anyway—Archie had somehow crammed about every bit of hiking gear anyone could ever want in here—and, after sealing the phone inside, I slipped it into the pocket, drawing the zipper up after it.

I slung the jacket casually over the duffel. I could only hope it wouldn't attract Edythe's attention—I didn't want to risk keeping the phone in my pocket while I was undergoing the change, lest I break it to bits with my thrashing about, and she might be suspicious if I went and dug out the phone first thing when the transformation was complete.

I had already decided—my first act of my new life would be to walk over, pick up my jacket and put it on. Then, once I was away, I would be able to call Sulpicia. Tell her I had done what she said, and she would tell me where to go next.

Of course, all that assuming that, when I woke up, I still intended to stick to the plan. Assuming I didn't wake up as someone I didn't know, who didn't care a whit what happened to Jules. Assuming I didn't wake up as a monster.

I left the jacket where it was, and went to go sit on the bed to wait.

It was barely a minute later I heard a quiet knock on the door.

"You can come in," I called. "I'm done."

The door inched inward, and Edythe slipped inside, shutting the door behind her.

I was laying on the left side of the bed, propped up against a couple large pillows. Edythe came to sit on the bed beside me, just on the edge.

"Ready?" she whispered, putting her hand on mine, where they were folded across my stomach.

"Ready," I answered, my voice calm and steady. I turned my eyes to look at her. It was ironic, in a way. Ironic that, on our wedding night, the night Edythe might have made me hers in a very human way, instead, she was making me hers in a way that couldn't be more like a vampire.

Edythe leaned down, until her lips were inches from my throat. I closed my eyes, waiting.

Silence. Not so much as a rustle of the sheets, or the soft rush of air of breathing in or out.

I felt something trembling slightly against my stomach, and for a second I thought it was my hands, but as Edythe's slender fingers closed slightly, gripping a little tighter, I realized Edythe was the one who was shaking. I opened my eyes.

Her eyes were deep with pain as she gazed down at my face. "I—" she choked. "I don't think I can."

"You can," I said gently. "We decided this together, you and I. Don't be afraid, Edythe. No matter what I say when the pain starts, what counts is what I'm saying now. You gave me a choice, and I choose this."

Edythe's cool hand stroked my face, and the agony in her eyes was almost too painful to look at.

"I love you," she whispered. "More than anything."

"I love you, too," I said earnestly, with feeling—knowing very well this may be my last chance to say it. I paused, then added, "If you love me, Edythe, do this. Do it for me."

Edythe's breathing hitched. However, she bent over me once again, so close I could feel her chilly breath on my jaw. There she lingered for a moment.

And suddenly I felt her cool lips hard against mine, insistent, tinged with desperation. I felt her arms around my neck, her hard, unyielding body pressed against mine.

I felt my own body, as it always did, automatically react—I wrapped my arms around her, holding her to me, and my mouth opened, breathing in her intoxicating scent. I knew if we let this go any further, we might forget ourselves—and Sulpicia would come for us, and Jules would die.

So even as my arms wound ever tighter, pulling her against my chest, I leaned my head a little to the side, and whispered in her ear, "Do it, Edythe."

Edythe didn't move for a moment. I felt her face pressed up against the side of mine, her lips against my jaw. At last, however, she shifted, and I felt her face against my neck instead. In spite of the ice of her touch—her hands, her face, her body—I felt hot.

I barely felt it. As her lips brushed my neck, it almost felt like a normal kiss. Just a slight sting—the kind of little nick you wouldn't even put a band-aid on.

However, I felt the moment when the mood changed. Edythe was no longer holding me, and she was suddenly moving with quick, business-like efficiency. Her mouth was at each of my wrists, then my chest, then even my ankles. Each new piercing was followed by a slow, faint burning. I was pleased that I still seemed in control of myself mentally, enough to wonder how she was doing, with my blood in her mouth. Was she doing okay? Was it painful for her?

However, it wasn't long before I felt each point of burning begin to build. Each on their own rose higher and higher, starting with the one in my neck, then moving on to my arms and chest, until my entire body was in the center of a blazing inferno. The fire consumed everything, blocked out everything else—the bed, the lodge, even the touch of Edythe's hand. I was alone in my head, with nothing but the fire, and every other thought in my head faded to the background.

I screamed as I felt hell open its mouth and swallow me.

* * *

A/N: ...

So.

These are the chapters where events split completely from Breaking Dawn, and it becomes less Breaking Dawn Reimagined than a completely new Life and Death fanstory. (For better or for worse.) When I first started working on New Moon, I wasn't all that confident I would ever get this far, so it's more exciting than I can say to arrive at this point.

A couple of notes on the direction of the honeymoon-side of things this chapter:

First, I apologize to all of you out there who might have been looking forward to this chapter in terms of how the equivalent played out in Breaking Dawn, as an actual honeymoon. I probably can't express just how many internal debates I had with myself over how direct to be about this earlier on, even as early as Eclipse, but I tend to be somewhat spoiler-averse and couldn't think of a good way to say anything about it. Instead I did my best to drop clues (like Edythe not buying a bed, or even the lesser T rating on this story), though even I think that may have been a little too subtle.

I decided to go down this route for the story for mainly two reasons. First, in the original Breaking Dawn, Edward and Bella's honeymoon scene serves an important role in driving the narrative forward, as the catalyst that leads to Renesme which attracts the attention of the Volturi. However, for the direction I'm going here, I liked the idea of (I guess this may be a bit of a slight spoiler, so skip to the next paragraph or the rest of the author's note if you like) it lending emotional intensity to the story in a different way, as an unfulfilled promise.

The second reason is less scientific, though just as much if not more of a factor, and just simply comes down to my own tastes as both a writer and reader. Physical intimacy is obviously a part of life, and there are many different beliefs and comfort levels when it comes to the depiction of sex in literature—but while there are parts of Twilight's focus on the physical dimension of romance I don't mind and even enjoy, sex is something I consider intensely personal, and I find I just don't enjoy reading sex scenes, even fairly clipped and nondescript as Breaking Dawn. And I can't effectively write something I know I wouldn't enjoy reading myself.

Once again, I apologize for any disappointment. Thank you all so much for reading and for keeping up with me all this time, I know I'll never be Stephanie Meyer, but it means so much to me that so many of you out there have been able to read and enjoy these stories so much, I appeciate you all and can honestly say I have and continue to have a ton of fun working on them. If you decide to stick with me further, I hope you'll enjoy the rest of the story as it plays out. (Next chapter, we won't be getting back to Beau and Edythe right away—I'm guessing you'll know what I mean when you see the chapter title.) Thanks again, and as always, hope to see you next time!

Posted 10/14/19


	8. Life sucks and then you die

A/N: And! We're back again, with a bit of a change of direction this time. (I wanted to do something to be a bit of a throwback to the original Breaking Dawn, especially since I thought it would make sense to go back and find out what happened from this side, though it's only this one chapter.)

At the end, there will be a note on last chapter, how Sulpicia knew of the wolves and Beau's relationship to Jules. Looking back, I know that might have been a bit confusing, and at least as far as I remember I don't think there's going to be anything in the story itself to explain it.

Also, just as a reminder, when it comes to the wolves, the Animorph rule is still in effect. (If that doesn't sound familiar, check out the note at the end of New Moon Reimagined, Chapter 15: Pressure. I tried to explain my reasoning there on stepping outside canon mechanics, a lot of it having to do with making things easier on myself for things here.) There's also no imprinting in this version of Reimagined.

Thanks so much for all your thoughts and comments last chapter, I so much appreciate the feedback. Hope you'll enjoy this next one even if it's a bit of a switch (again, unlike the original, it will just be this one chapter), and see you at the end!

* * *

Chapter 7: Life sucks, and then you die

**Julie Black, Two days earlier**

Life sucks, and then you die.

That was what my dad always used to say anyway. Probably quoting somebody famous, not that I'd ever asked. It had always seemed kind of pointlessly pessimistic to me. My dad and I always laughed about it, while Bonnie looked on with a kind of vague disapproval.

I wasn't laughing now.

I felt the damp forest floor beneath my paws, the thick smell of lush greenery in my nose as I ran, avoiding the trunks of trees by inches. The last two months I'd spent out here in the broad wilderness, living like an animal, killing all my food and eating it raw. Above all, I tried not to think.

Thinking hurt. Thinking was pain.

In a way, it was kind of stupid, which some of my less sensitive fellow pack members were only too quick to point out. Like there weren't about a million other girls in the world who had had their hearts smashed to bits, and had to watch as some other girl won out in the game of love. Lots of girls had experienced total heartbreak, without turning into a wolf and running off into the wilderness to sulk and nurse their wounds.

Of course, most girls couldn't turn into wolves. If they could, maybe the forests would be full of a bunch of animals running around like they'd just had their eyes gouged out. And as many heartbroken girls there probably were in the world, I really doubted very many of them had lost to a bloodsucking vampire. I doubted there were very many girls for whom losing meant the person they cared about most was either going to become a monster, or die in the process.

Yeah, life really sucked.

I wanted with just about everything I was to just let go. To detach myself from this whole messed up situation. Beau had made his choice: I'd lost, and it wasn't any of my business anymore. He was marrying her, and not long after that, he would disappear. Either his blood sucked dry, or as one of them. A fiend bent on drinking human blood.

But it seemed like the more I tried not to care, the more I tried to stop loving Beau, the more the beating organ in my chest seemed to constrict, the more my mind seemed to darken with anxiety and horror. His name just repeated itself in my mind like a chant. _Beau. Beau. Beau._ Even as I sunk myself deeper and deeper into the wolf mind, his face was always there. Laughing, sky blue eyes twinkling at some dumb thing I'd said, or his eyebrows furrowed in one of his serious looks.

I put my head low to the ground, feeling my claws tearing up the earth beneath me as I raced like a bullet through the forest. Trying to outrun the pain.

It was happening tomorrow. Although I had tried to block it out, the mental voices of the others reached me anyway. And because Sarah knew exactly when it was, I knew. With every inch the sun dropped in the sky, the time drew closer. The time for Beau's inevitable death, one way or another.

The sky glowed a deadly blood red, and though the main heat of the day had passed, it felt like it was burning against my fur.

_He made his choice,_ said a voice in the back of my mind. _Just let him go._

I had let him go. At least the way a girl gives up a guy to another girl. It was just letting him die I kept getting hung up on.

Of course, as always, I wasn't alone in my head.

Emma and Quil were out running patrols, and I could hear their thoughts in my head. They didn't speak to me, they'd given that up a while ago. They tried not to think about me, leave me alone, but they didn't quite succeed. Scattered thoughts of the wedding flickered through Emma's mind, and she wondered what I must be feeling. Quil was wondering, when he was changed, what it would mean for the treaty.

Very likely, the treaty would soon be broken. Either Beau died, or he became one of them. Would the pack take action? Attack the bloodsuckers?

The blazing heat on my fur seemed suddenly to turn to ice. Fighting the Cullens. No doubt, if that happened, Sam would order me to return. Order me to fight. I'd have no problem tearing my teeth into Edythe Cullen, and maybe some of the others, but what about Beau? Even if _he_ was an _it_, a monster who cared about nothing but sucking human blood and who would kill Charlie and my mom and anyone else as soon as look at them, could I really fight him? Kill him?

Maybe. Maybe, if I concentrated on the fact the Beau I knew would hate what he had become. That the old Beau would want me to stop him before he could kill anyone he cared about.

Chills ran through my body, from nose to tail, and I felt suddenly sick.

I felt when both Emma and Quil faltered in their runs, hit by my wave of dread and revulsion.

It was Quil who spoke to me first.

_...Jules?_

I didn't want to talk to them. Not now. I didn't want to hear their reassurances about how I wouldn't have to go up against Beau, that someone else would do it if it had to be done, or arguments about how he wouldn't really be Beau anymore. I didn't want to hear the arguments that had been going around and around in my head for so long drawn out and used against me.

Images of the imagined wedding tomorrow flickered through their heads, and suddenly I couldn't take anymore. I needed to be alone. _Really_ alone.

The smell of petrol and concrete touched my nostrils, and I abruptly turned my massive body, ripping through the forest like a drag racer. There was a city close by.

My mind stayed blank in those few seconds that I tore for the city's border. I thought about nothing but the forest, tinted red in the twilight, the feel of the dirt beneath my paws and the push and pull of muscle and sinew over bone as my wolf's body worked together like a seamless machine.

The distinctive smells of the city, a thousand, thousand human bodies, oils of fast food, and the industrial metal and glass, grew stronger, and at last, I slowed to a stop, just on the edge where the trees thinned into nothing. I closed my eyes, and I concentrated. I felt as my body drew back in on itself, compacting down, my long nose retracting instantly into my face, my fur turning to skin. In a moment I was once again human, kneeling on the forest floor.

I hadn't been human in weeks, and for a moment it was disorienting, to have hands instead of paws. I climbed to my feet, and I staggered briefly, falling against a tree, as I struggled to balance on just two legs.

Still, it felt good to be alone in my head again. I shook my head, and bits of leaves and twigs fell from my hair. I looked down, and my clothes weren't much better, plus I was barefoot. I would probably attract quite a few stares if I walked into town like this.

But, at the moment, I really didn't care. I wanted to be out of the forest. I wanted to be away from the voices of my friends, away from all strangeness and magic.

The forest went right up against the town. I didn't know where I was, except that I was probably still in Canada, or maybe the northern United States. I'd gone up _really _north for awhile, until the air turned chilly even in the middle of summer, but my wanderings had brought me back down again—like a magnet, forever being drawn back to the place that was the source of my torture. Maybe I would go north again. As far away as I could go. Until the summer disappeared, and the cold froze my fur.

I did my best to brush the main part of the twigs and other debris I'd collected sleeping for the last month on the forest floor, but I was sure I missed some. I knew how wild I had to look, a girl in a tank top and spandex, covered in leaves, no shoes, no hiking gear. I probably looked like an escaped kidnap victim. Or maybe a convict from a local prison.

I passed quickly from the damp forest earth to dark asphalt, where there was a parking lot beside a small, seedy-looking grocery store. A guy slouched outside, smoking, and he watched me as I strode across the lot like I knew where I was going. I felt bits of grit and rock scrape against my feet, but I ignored it.

I kept on going, past a few dumpy-looking houses, and then a street of small businesses. A liquor store, with a neon sign out front, a tattoo parlor, and a tanning salon at the end. There was a place advertising easy quick loans in bold yellow letters. A few people glanced at me as I passed, but I didn't attract as much attention as I expected. Maybe they were used to seeing people who looked like they might be on drugs.

I turned down another sidewalk, and I was surprised to find myself suddenly in what looked like a better neighborhood. Strange, to see the two worlds coexisting side by side, the back-alley fringes and normal life. I kept on going, past a line of nice middle-class houses, with neatly mowed lawns and grass kept relatively green, though it was late July. I came to the end of a lane, and as I turned a corner, I found a small park just ahead. Even though it was getting close to dusk now, it was packed with kids and families, out enjoying the balmy summer evening. Kids swung on the swings and tumbled down the slide, while others built castles and dug craters in the sand. Parents sat on the nearby benches or lounged in the grass under the trees, watching their children intermittently as they read or tried to catch a few minutes' sleep.

Strangely, the background of shouting and laughter was a relief after the months of quiet, with nothing but my wolf mind and the minds of my pack. I staggered toward a large elm no one had taken, and threw myself on the grass beside it. Of course, at this time of day, the tree afforded no shade, and the heat of the blood red sky burned against my skin from the west. Or maybe the heat I kept feeling wasn't from the setting sun. Maybe it was inside, this feeling, like I was being burned alive.

I closed my eyes as I tried, as always, not to think.

"Are you all right?"

I opened my eyes to see a young guy hovering nearby, looking a bit anxious.

"Do you need help?" he asked. He was looking uncertain now. When I still didn't reply, he said, "Because, well...if you need a ride anywhere..."

I must really look bad if random strangers were coming up to me and asking if I needed help. Not just my clothes and lack of shoes, if my face was half as dead as it felt right now, it must look like I'd had my soul crushed out of me.

He went on quickly, gesturing behind him, "That's my mom and my sister back there."

My eyes flickered to a tree over near the playground, and I saw a young girl, maybe nine or ten, and a woman with the beginnings of wrinkles around her mouth and gentle eyes. I wondered why he was telling me that, then thought maybe he thought that knowing his mother was nearby would make me feel more safe.

"Um," he said, growing more awkward by the minute. "So, if you change your mind..."

My eyes flickered back to his face, and for the first time I really focused on his features. He was probably about my age, maybe a year or two older. His hair had a sandy quality about it, light, but with a whole range of colors between red and gold. If you looked close, you could see a spattering of gold freckles across his nose. His eyes were a warm brown, like cinnamon. He was actually, _really_ good looking.

It suddenly occurred to me that maybe I'd been going about this all wrong. Maybe the way to forget about Beau, cut him out of my heart, wasn't to turn myself into an animal and try not to think. Maybe what I needed was to find something, or someone, to crowd him out. Beau was the only guy I'd ever really liked. Maybe what I needed was to get out there, see the world, find someone else. Someone better.

Someone who wouldn't throw his life away to vampires.

I slowly sat up, resting my arms on my knees. "What's your name?" I asked, giving him my attention.

He blinked, startled. "Um, it's Eli." He looked a bit sheepish. "My friends just call me Li, though."

Somehow, though I didn't really feel like laughing, one escaped me anyway. "Is that because they think you're cool enough to deserve it, or are they making fun of you?"

He blinked. An unwilling grin flashed across his face. "Kind of both, I think." He paused. "What's your name?"

"Julie," I said. "But my friends call me Jules."

He grinned. "Is that because they think you're cool enough to deserve it, or are they making fun of you?"

I really did laugh then. I liked this guy. He was nice enough to come to the park with his mom and sister, and ask some weird girl with wild, shorn hair and covered in forest muck if she needed help, but he still had a sense of humor.

"It was my older brothers who gave me the name first, so you do the math."

He grinned. "I have older brothers, too. Two of them." He paused, looking hesitant. "So, uh...did you need a lift anywhere? I just got my license, so I've been driving the car." He added, smiling a bit again, "It _probably_ won't break down on the way. I just put in a new carburetor."

I raised an eyebrow. "Is there such a thing as a new carburetor? Didn't those go out like, two decades ago?"

He looked impressed. "Do you know something about cars?"

I shrugged. "I built one once, actually."

"Wow," he said. "I always wanted to build my own car. But we don't have that kind of money."

I nodded. "Story of my life. I had to scavenge half the parts from the dump. She runs great, though."

He was looking really interested now. No longer just trying to be a good Samaritan and help out somebody who needed it, he looked like he really did want to talk some more.

"Wow," he said again.

We both heard a faint cough, and he turned to glance back at his mom and sister.

"Um, I've got to go," he said. He hesitated, then said, "So... So you want to come? I could drop my mom and my sister off home, and I could buy you something to eat. There's this diner around the corner from my house my friends and I always go to..."

I gazed back up at him for a long minute. A part of me wanted to go with him. However, after a moment, the smile slowly faded from my lips. No, that wasn't true and I knew it. As much as I wanted to want to go with him, even though we seemed to have so much in common, and he was nice and this conversation was fun, as we joked I wasn't really seeing his face. I was still seeing someone else.

"Sorry," I said, with a bit of a rueful smile. "I can't. I've got somewhere I need to be."

"Oh," he said, his face falling slightly. "Okay."

I climbed slowly to my feet, brushing myself off, though some of the twigs still remained stubbornly in place. "I have a friend who's getting married tomorrow, and I'm going to have to hurry if I'm going to make it back in time."

"A friend?" he said, curious.

I sighed. "Yeah, he'll probably want me to be there."

Li studied my face. "He?" he said. And I knew he probably guessed at least part of the story behind all this. Perceptive as well as nice and good-looking.

"Yeah," I said, sighing again. "Biggest idiot of a best friend there ever was, he'll probably be depressed if he doesn't see me at least once before he runs off for his honeymoon. And I guess I kind of would like to see him one more time, too."

"He must be an idiot," Li agreed, and his eyes moved over my face.

I smiled a little. "Yeah. But he's a good sort of idiot. He just doesn't have good taste in girls."

I turned in the direction I had come, the sidewalk that led to the back alleys that led back out into the woods.

"Hey," Li said. "My mom and my sister come to this park a lot during the summer. If you're ever in the neighborhood..."

"I'll look you up," I said. "And you can show me that diner."

I felt his eyes on my back as I walked back down the sidewalk, but I didn't look back. I strode quickly, still barefoot, and the rough concrete scraped against my soles like before, but now I barely felt it. It was getting dark now, the sun almost completely set behind the horizon, leaving the sky a deep purple. I had less than twenty-four hours to get back to Washington—I should be at least able to make the reception.

I knew suddenly I had to see him again. I'd tried to pull away, tried to detach myself, but it was no good. I had to see him, and I had to be there for him, or I knew I'd regret it. I must be a masochist.

I walked quickly past the seedy grocery store, and headed back out into the dark woods. What was left of the light from the sky quickly vanished in its shadows, but I kept walking, away from the city, away from potential witnesses. I was headed back, back to the world of magic.

I came to a stop in a small, open area between the pines. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath—and that was when I smelled it.

Vampire.

"I wouldn't move if I were you," said a soft voice right behind me.

I spun sharply.

For a second, the shock of her appearance immobilized me. This one was unlike any bloodsucker I had ever seen. Most bloodsuckers could pass for human, as long as they stayed in the shadows. But this one's diamond skin had an oddly fragile, papery quality, and her eyes were covered in a milky film. Though like all bloodsuckers her body was young, there was something about her that made her look...old. Ancient. She wore a long cloak as black as night, clasped at her neck. Her long dark hair fell about her face.

I blinked, and I realized I could see another smaller vampire standing just behind the swirls of her cloak. This one appeared to be cowering behind her, one hand gripping the woman's sleeve. A boy. He, too, was dressed in a long cloak, this one a dark ashy gray.

Two more bloodsuckers emerged from the woods, to flank her on either side. They both had their hoods up, but my eyes didn't need much light to see, and I saw one with dark hair cut at a severe angle, a woman, and the other was a tall male, with dark hair combed back. I thought I caught yet another cloak some ways back behind them.

I knew I was about to die. I couldn't face this many bloodsuckers alone and live. However, I would take as many of them as I could with me. I bent my shoulders slightly, baring my teeth as I readied myself for the change.

"I wouldn't if I were you," said the one with the dark hair in the middle—the leader, I was sure. Her voice was still melodic, soft, like a teacher or a parent making a gentle correction. She added, "If you do, you will die instantly."

I ignored her. I felt a tremor go down my body.

"You don't want to do that," she said, and this time her voice was harder, more insistent. "Trust me, young one." She took a swift step forward. The little one clinging to the back of her cloak stepped with her.

Automatically, I backed up a step, and my back ran into something hard.

I was sure I'd stopped where there weren't any trees nearby, and when I reached back to find out what I had hit, I didn't feel the rough texture of bark, but something smooth, like glass.

My trembling stopped, for just a moment. I eyed the dark vampire in the middle for one moment longer, before I let my gaze turn back, for just a fraction of a second, to see what was behind me.

There was yet another vampire standing there. He looked young, a teenager maybe, with dark brown hair and bright crimson eyes that made me sure he must be new. I froze for a second—I couldn't believe he had gotten so close without my realizing it. And I realized suddenly that I couldn't smell him. No, not just him, as I drew in a deep breath, I realized I couldn't smell the others, either. I had only had a taste of them on the air, and then it had been completely cut off.

As the panic began to crawl over me, I searched again for the barrier I had hit before. I didn't see anything. But as I reached out a hand, I felt it, something hard and smooth, but invisible. My hand traveled over the surface, and it seemed to curve around me. I reached out my other hand, and found it was above my head, too, barely inches to spare. My hands moved all around, until I realized—it wasn't an invisible wall, but a sphere. A cage, extending out barely a foot from me in all directions.

"You see," said the vampire with the long dark hair softly. "If you were to attempt to change right now, as your body expanded outward, all your soft tissues, your heart, your lungs, stomach and intestines, they would collapse in on themselves. You would be left as little more than a shapeless mass of blood and fur. Not to mention your dog's skull would be crushed, and the shards of bone would tear your brain to ribbons. And don't think you could break the barrier—if it could be broken with brute force, we would know, believe me."

The taller bloodsucker flexed a fist, as though to remind me of the brutal, car-crushing strength of their kind.

I felt a bead of sweat break out on my brow as I stared back at them.

"Who are you?" I asked. My voice came out flat, rather than defiant as I had meant it to be. "What do you want?"

The vampire smiled slightly, and her filmy eyes had that vague, gentle look again. "We go by the name the Volturi—perhaps you've heard of us. My name is Sulpicia, and we are here because there's something with which we need your help, Julie Black. There is much at stake, the world teeters on the edge of falling into chaos. And the only way to stop it requires you."

I laughed. There was an edge of hysteria in it.

"The Volturi," I repeated. "Oh yeah, I know you. You're the leeches that rule over the others. You're the queen of darkness. And now you're here, asking for my help? Seriously?"

My half-crazy smile was suddenly gone, and I glared at her with pure hatred. "I'd die sooner than help you," I spat. My mouth curled again in a smile, cold and twisted. "Getting my skull crushed in doesn't really sound so bad. Be interesting anyway. And it would be worth it, just to keep you from getting your way."

The dark-haired leech, Sulpicia, I guess she'd called herself, the one Beau had told me about meeting in the lair of the vampires, looked at me thoughtfully. Then she glanced to one side, and I saw she was looking at one of the other leeches. Another woman standing unobtrusively behind the others, in another long cloak black as midnight. I saw long white-blond hair beneath the hood. The woman's eyes were on Sulpicia, and I saw her placid features twist in the slightest hint of distaste. Then her eyes shifted to me.

Sulpicia turned her own misty gaze back to where I stood. "Much hangs in the balance," she said softly. "We need you, Julie Black."

I opened my mouth to make another sneering reply, but I hesitated. As I looked into her filmy eyes, I felt the oddest tug. I realized, somehow, I believed her. And I wanted to help her in her cause, whatever it was.

The feeling intensified, muddling my thoughts. Sulpicia was right, Sulpicia was good. If I didn't trust her, didn't help her, people were going to get hurt. I wanted to help.

My eyes flickered to the blond vampire in the black cloak behind the others, and she gazed back at me with crimson eyes, in a look of supreme concentration.

Something ice cold plunged in my stomach, and even though I couldn't have articulated it in words, I knew.

I clutched my head, gritting my teeth. My knees buckled under me as I fought. Somehow, they were doing something to me, getting inside my head. I had to fight them, I had to keep myself.

Sulpicia's eyes never moved from me. However, when she spoke, her voice was barely above a murmur, and so I could tell she wasn't talking to me.

"You couldn't have been more subtle...?"

The blond one's eyes were boring into me, cold, but I saw her mouth tighten with resentment. "I have never made an effort to master this power, as you well know, Sulpicia."

"I suppose a more honest use is indeed preferable," Sulpicia conceded, though she sighed wistfully. She took a step forward, so graceful it was almost as though she were gliding over the ground, like a ghost. In a moment, she was standing right before my cage.

She knelt down in front of where I was still on my knees, my back bent against the spell trying to take control of me. She looked me in the eye, and I couldn't help but stare back.

"I'll die sooner than help you," I hissed at her through my teeth, though I felt my very being recoil at such defiance. I felt like I was snarling at my own mother. And that made me hate her all the more.

"I think that will do, Athena," she murmured, her eyes never moving from mine. "You ought to go and join your forces now. I will finish our preparations, and call both you and Marcus when we are ready to go to battle."

Athena, or whatever her name was, didn't answer, only her mouth was still twisted down with distaste, and abruptly, the intense feelings of kinship with this stranger and monster faded. However, they didn't go entirely. They lingered in the back of my mind, stuck there like bits of rancid tar.

The blond turned and left swiftly, her dark hood pulled low over her face.

"I don't think you quite understand your situation," Sulpicia said to me softly, gently. "You could kill yourself to get away from us, but that would be an act of cowardice rather than the courage you imagine. For some time we have followed you, waited for you to resume your human form so that we could catch you without the others of your kind knowing. But if we can't have you, we will simply move on to another member of your pack. One of the smaller, younger ones, who will not be so foolish as to defy us. Will you intentionally die, and leave one of them to suffer as our prisoner in your place?"

My lips curled back from my teeth, and a snarl that wasn't faintly human escaped my mouth.

"You wish, leech. You wouldn't get near a single one of them. They'd know if you tried to go onto Quileute lands."

She smiled faintly. "Ah, but as you must know by now, we have ways of concealing ourselves from your wolf senses. You would be surprised—we could walk right into your village, and steal one of your young sisters from her bed. Maybe two—then we could use one to keep the other in line."

My blood felt like it was boiling in my veins. I looked into her smiling, papery face, faintly glowing with her triumph, and I wanted to rip her throat out. And I decided, I would stay alive. Not just to protect the rest of the wolves of the pack, but so, when the opportunity came, I'd have the chance to rip her apart.

"Good," she said softly, as though she were reading my thoughts. "Now, we ought to go—to set up for the next stage of the plan. You kept us waiting a long time, but now we may finally proceed."

She studied me speculatively for a moment, then her eyes flickered to the boy behind me, and to the other vampire at her side, the female. "Brenden, Tacita," she murmured. "Would you please...?"

Suddenly, the air was no longer dead around me, and I felt a breeze on my face. I nearly gagged as the burning scent assaulted my nostrils again. However, I kept my head, and I knew what it meant— the cage was gone. With a snarl, I spun on the monster, and coiled my legs to spring, vibrations running along my spine.

The small vampire behind her cringed into her side, but she didn't react in the slightest.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a blur of motion, the female with the angled hair. Faster than even my eyes could follow, she was suddenly behind me, and I felt something hard strike me in the back of the head. For a second my vision spun, and the world tilted around me.

Yeah, I thought, just before I fell into unconsciousness. Life really sucks.

* * *

A/N: And, another one down. We're starting to get somewhere.

I know not everyone liked the long section of Breaking Dawn that switched to Jake's perspective, but I've also talked to some people where that was their favorite aspect of the book, and it was always one of my favorites too. (Of course, many of the things I liked most about the original there wasn't really room for here, but I enjoyed working on this chapter anyway, and getting to draw a few parallels.)

How Sulpicia knew about Julie and the wolves, and specifically Beau's close relationship to her—

I know this has been a while back, but in New Moon Chapter 17: Visitor, when Archie comes back to Forks after thinking Beau killed himself, Beau tells Archie about the wolves, and Beau's closeness with Jules becomes pretty apparent. Then, in Chapter 21: Verdict, Sulpicia touches Archie when he's trying to convince her that he will take responsibility for making sure Beau gets changed even if Edythe is against it. Sulpicia instantly gained access to everything Archie knew about the wolves at that point (including the fact he can't see their futures), and Beau's relationship to Julie. (She also has a fairly deep understanding of the Cullen family dynamics and just Beau's character and values from having touched Edythe before.)

Interestingly, by this same logic, Aro would have also known about Jacob and the wolves in the original storyline in the same way. (This might present a bit of a plothole in that in Eclipse, Edward is worried about the Volturi finding out about the wolves as their volatility would be something the Volturi would be inclined to stamp out. However, Aro doesn't seem to have the same personal vendetta against werewolves that Caius does, so possibly it could make sense he would have kept the info to himself, and wanted to wait until he had real evidence of wrongdoing by the Cullens that he could seize on before taking the guard down to the area, so that he could implement his plan to take Alice and Edward without danger of the public losing faith in the Volturi as a fair force for justice. He wouldn't have known about the later vampire-wolf alliance.) I'd probably have to read Breaking Dawn again to decide what to think on that, though I guess an alternative might be in interpreting how his power works, such as, even though Aro can read every single thought, he has to kind of pick and choose what he looks for when he touches someone. In that case, it would be possible for him to miss things even if it would still be impossible to deliberately hide things from him.

Thanks so much for reading, and for all your thoughts and comments last chapter! If you have a moment, let me know what you thought, and hope to see you next time!

Posted 11/11/19


	9. New Reality

A/N: Hey! We're back to the regular story now, last chapter was a bit of a weird one, I know. (Mostly I wanted the transformation to feel longer, though I never can tell if such unusual approaches are working the way I mean them to. Just give me three years and I'll be more objective.)

Hope you all had a nice holiday, and can't believe another year is almost over. Thanks for all your ongoing support, and see you at the end! :J

* * *

Chapter 8: New Reality

**Beau**

I couldn't tell how long I had been burning.

Fire scorched down through my chest and blazed through every inch of me, like a colony of fire ants crawling beneath my skin, like venomous snakes tearing at my insides. It was pain beyond anything I could have ever imagined—I would have gladly cut off my arms and legs, cut out my tongue and gouged out my eyes, if just so the fire would have less place to burn.

The pain seemed to seal me in a world all its own, darkness so complete I couldn't see even when my eyes were wide open, silence so all-encompassing I couldn't even hear myself scream. I'd long since closed my eyes to escape the terror—better darkness I brought on myself than the one imposed on me. I couldn't tell if I had stopped screaming.

In moments of lucidity in between the madness, between when the pain whited out all memory and I struggled to remember who I was or why this was happening, I began to wonder if something had gone terribly wrong. Perhaps instead of changing, I was simply eternally damned. I longed for death, of the final cool relief of empty nothingness, of blissful unawareness. Death was my only hope, my only comfort amid the flames.

It was just on the point when any last vestiges of hope were almost extinguished, when I was certain it would never end, that I finally felt something shift. Beneath the pain, a new strength surged up through me. Though the relentless blazing flames inside me had not abated in the least, somehow I felt stronger—I felt like I could endure the pain, if only just. And more importantly, I could think around it.

My hearing returned to me first, and I heard a low voice speaking to me, softly, soothingly. The voice caught often, as though on the verge of tears, and I remembered there was someone being tortured along with me, and that I didn't want her to suffer.

I had a feeling my sight had also returned, and I knew I could have opened my eyes and seen her face. Maybe that would have been enough to pull me through. However, I kept my eyes tightly closed. I didn't want to see her features contorted with agony. Because now I could hear I was still screaming.

Instead, I tried to focus my energy on stopping the screams. I slowed them a little—for entire seconds at a time—but never for long. As my strength grew, so did my capacity for experiencing the pain. I felt the burning in each individual cell, each one separate from the other. The burning in my arms was distinct from the burning in my lungs, in my stomach, in my legs. Each one was its own planet, each one was on fire.

Though my sensitivity grew more pronounced, my strength increased again. At last my thrashing slowed, and I was able to stay quiet more than I screamed. I could endure, even as the fire continued to burn.

At the same time, my head felt like it was expanding, making more room for thought. I heard every comforting word that the voice right next to me spoke, and I took it in, absorbed it. I was able to count each individual breath, each beat of my heart, to keep track of the passing of time. But beyond that, I was able to think about what had happened, and about the future. What was waiting for me when this pain finally ended, what I would have to do. I began to lay the foundations of plans—going through each idea one at a time, weighing each against the other, sifting through them to find the one that would have the greatest possibility of success.

Those only took a little of my new expansive mind. The rest was left over to focus entirely on the pain.

My hearing sharpened, and I heard beyond the gentle murmur of her voice. I heard the hum of electricity—a generator outside. I heard the chirping of birds, and the scrabbling of small animals in the trees and along the forest floor. I could make out each individual, and I could hear the difference between what I thought were squirrels, and slightly larger animals, racoons maybe. Very distantly, I heard the rush of water. A river.

I was sure my eyesight would be getting sharper too, but I still didn't open my eyes. I was getting so I could endure my own pain, but hers was still another story. And more than that, I couldn't bear to look into the beautiful, lovely face of the person I was already plotting to betray.

Another part of my newly spacious brain counted the seconds. _Twenty-one thousand nine hundred and one, twenty-one thousand nine hundred and two..._

I felt the exact moment when something changed. The fire did something different from before—it began to recede.

I felt it leave my fingertips first, then my toes. I would have rejoiced—except suddenly a new pain I hadn't even contemplated suddenly exploded to life inside me.

My throat was suddenly on fire—a new kind of fire. Dry. Desiccated. Like a yellow, withered plant, a cracked desert. Thirst unlike anything I'd ever experienced.

And then there was a second new pain. The fire retreated from my fingers, then my palms, and wrists. But as it did, it all seemed to concentrate together, intensifying the pain in one place as it all drew straight toward my heart. The fire blazed hotter, my back arched. My heart, which had already been beating far too fast, picked up its tempo, faster and faster, like humming bird wings raising the flames higher with every beat.

The fire pulled away from my arms and legs, all its raging power focused to a single point. The beat of my heart was so fast and so powerful it felt like it would grind straight through my ribs. The fire was gone from everything but my chest—the very last combustible object to fuel itself. My heart pounded frantically as the two forces wrestled, my heart, and the fire, as the fire closed in around it like a pack of predators on their prey. For a moment, the inferno rose up in one last, unbearable surge.

My heart stuttered twice. Then it gave one last quiet beat, and was silent.

The pain was gone. For a second I laid where I was, not quite comprehending it. Then I opened my eyes.

A breath of surprise escaped my mouth. I could see—_everything_. It was all so sharp, so defined. Like going from grainy old film to HD, and then some. I could see each individual ridge of texture on the wood ceiling. I could see dust motes swirling in the air, stirred to a frenzied dance by my sharp intake of breath, and I could see where each particle touched the light, and where they fell into shadow. I could see each individual color in the white light from the long, florescent bulb above, including some eighth color I couldn't put a name to.

I sat up. Something else that took me by surprise—there was no delay from the moment I decided to sit, and when I was in a sitting position. It happened instantaneously. I blinked.

I breathed in a mouthful of air—tasting the broad range of smells and scents. It told me a world of information, almost as much as my new sharp eyes. Inside the room, I could distinguish each kind of wood from another, oak from cherry wood, cherry from mahogany. I could taste what chemicals and what level of pigment had been used in the lacquer. I could distinguish each separate material used in the bedding I was sitting on. And I could smell there was a vampire, right beside me.

I froze where I sat. Then, in another instantaneous movement, I turned my head.

She was there, kneeling beside me on the bed. She sat perfectly still, her ocher eyes watching me, both anxious and wary.

I reacted quickly, before I really had time to think about it. In an instant, I was against the far wall, in a move so fast it must have been a blur, even as everything moving around me remained completely clear. A bare fraction of a second later, my back was bent in a half crouch, facing her, ready to defend myself. My quick vampire's mind instantly assessed the unknown quantity—markedly smaller than I was, certainly, but a much older vampire, more experienced. I would have the advantage of strength, but...

With almost exaggerated slowness, she stepped down from the bed, on the opposite side from where I stood. However, as she did so, she continued to face me, never exposing her back. Her eyes never left mine.

"Beau?" she said, in a gentle, cautious voice. "It's me. Edythe."

Before she'd even finished speaking, rational thought had returned to me. It took me about a sixteenth of a second to process what had happened—I'd gotten startled, and it had triggered some kind of innate defensive reaction. Of course I knew the vampire standing on the other side of the room. Even through my now hazy human memories, I'd know that face anywhere.

Feeling a bit like a dork, I immediately straightened out of my crouch—another blur.

With very deliberate slowness, Edythe walked around the bed, then approached me. She held one hand out toward me, palm up. She stopped uncertainly several feet away.

I tried to practice moving slower, like she did, but it was barely an eighth of a second this time as I closed the distance between us, and I reached out to take her hand.

We stood like that for a moment, just staring into the other's eyes, our hands joined between us. Almost like a handshake, like we were being introduced for the first time—in a weird way, it almost felt like we were. It felt like years had passed in this cabin, years of darkness and pain, and even though she had been here the entire time, it had felt like the pain had separated us.

"Um, hi," I said, in a voice that was my own, yet somehow not my own. Like all the roughness had been smoothed out, leaving behind only silk and honey. My mouth smiled—yet it, too, felt unfamiliar, like it was mine, yet not quite mine. "It feels like it's been a while, huh?"

She smiled a little in return, though her eyes remained wary. "Centuries. Though it was actually a pretty quick change, as these things go. Barely two and a half days."

I turned my eyes to the window, and though the curtains were too dark to let light in, my enhanced sight could make out touches of sunbeams filtering in around the edges. The white light of maybe mid to late afternoon.

"Huh," I said. My eyes turned back to her.

I didn't really need a lot of time to process things. A fraction of a second was more than sufficient. I saw and heard and smelled so much faster than before—at least from what I could remember from my dim human memories. The old memories felt faded, dull, perhaps because everything was so much clearer now, so much more defined. I didn't really need time to process—however, still I stared at her face for one long second, then another second, and another.

Edythe's face had always seemed the one thing in this world that epitomized perfection. I'd spent more hours than I could count staring at it, or at least wishing I was. But now, with my sharper, far enhanced eyesight, I saw I had never fully appreciated it. She wasn't just perfect—every feature was a masterpiece.

"You're beautiful," I marveled. However, my tone was more surprised than complimentary. I almost winced—what a stupid thing to say. Like looking up and announcing, _Oh look, the sky is blue._ As a human, I couldn't remember ever saying those words aloud. Apparently, in at least one respect, my old human self had had better sense.

Edythe looked startled. She gave a hesitant half-smile, but didn't look like she knew how to respond.

Our hands were still joined, yet her touch wasn't at all like I remembered. Where before her skin had felt icy, hard as granite, now we were the same, and her small hand felt almost soft in mine. But one thing was the same—an electric current seemed to pulse up and down my arm. I wanted to touch her face, and the moment the thought crossed my mind, my hand was suddenly there, cradling her cheek.

I stroked the side of her face once in wonder, trying to remember my new strength and be gentle, and she lifted her own hand to place over mine. Her eyes were soft, though still cautious as she studied my every movement.

My eyes flickered down to her lips, and I wondered how it would be now, now that my senses were so much more powerful, so much more alive. This time I didn't let myself move with my new unnatural speed—I leaned down very slowly, trying to read in her eyes if she was okay with this. She stared back up at me, and didn't pull away. I saw her gaze flicker down once to my mouth, too. I thought I saw the same hunger there as I suddenly felt.

I closed the distance. It was different from anything I had ever felt before—I felt everything. The way her arms wound around my neck, and her fingers slid through my hair. Her mouth opened, and I felt her breath against my face. She took a step back, pulling me a step with her, and I felt when the back of her legs hit the edge of the bed. Her arms pulled me forward slightly.

A strange surge of euphoria coursed through me. All this time, I'd been afraid of what I'd be when I woke up. I'd wondered if I would be a monster, if I would be myself anymore—if I would feel about Edythe the same way. But the only difference I could see was that, if anything, all my feelings were stronger, sharper and more distinct. It wasn't any sacrifice to have waited until now for our honeymoon.

_Honeymoon._

Flickers of dim human memory flashed through my mind. A phone, clutched to my ear, a soft, gentle voice on the other end. My own figure bent with defeat, sitting on the edge of the bed as my resolve formed. And suddenly everything that was glowing and beautiful turned to darkness.

Jules. Jules was in danger.

I remembered with perfectly clarity the plan I had begun to form while I was burning. I couldn't be doing this—this wasn't part of the plan. The fire hadn't changed me fundamentally, and I was so relieved I could have cried—but Edythe couldn't be allowed to know that. Edythe had to see the new me, the new me that was going to betray her.

As a weak human, I don't know if I could have willed myself to do it—or even had enough clarity of thought to remember anything outside Edythe. But now I had a strength unlike any I had ever had, in more ways than one, so I instantly locked up all my limbs, going as still as a statue, and I opened my eyes.

Edythe felt immediately when my movement ceased. She pulled back slowly, and she was panting slightly. "What's wrong?" she murmured. Her eyes peered up into mine, trying to study my expression.

A sudden anxiety flickered in the depths of her eyes, and her gaze dropped. Her hands released my neck, sliding over my shoulders before they reluctantly fell to her sides.

I let go of her, and took a step back to give her some space, where she still stood right up against the edge of the bed.

"What is it?" she asked softly. Her voice was a little steadier now.

I shook my head, then forced a smile—I didn't have to feign the distance in my eyes as I looked at her, or the strain in my jaw as I forced my mouth to turn up at the corners. The distance was real—and it would remain so, until she knew the truth, if she ever did. I didn't know what Sulpicia would want from me once she had me. There were no guarantee I would ever come back—which was why I had to bear the responsibility of all this myself, and I couldn't tell Edythe anything. Because if I did, she wouldn't let me go.

"Nothing," I said. "It's just kind of different, that's all. My attention's kind of divided." I reached up to touch my neck—where my throat felt like the sun over a scorched desert. There had been so much to absorb, so much to see and feel, that I'd been able to keep it at bay for now. But as I let my thoughts turn to the aching burn in my throat, it seemed to rise up like a savage roaring beast, impossible to ignore.

Understanding washed across Edythe's face. "Of course. We should go hunting immediately." She reached over and took my hand in hers. She sighed. "Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't bring it up sooner."

I stood rigidly, though I managed a half-shrug with one shoulder. "I guess I got kind of distracted."

Edythe shook her head in disbelief.

Pulling casually from her hand, I crossed the room, to where I had left the jacket from Archie draped across my duffel. I drew it over my arms, tugging at the collar to pull it into place. I felt the slight weight of the cell phone in my pocket.

"Okay," I said. "Let's go hunting."

* * *

The clear afternoon sky was beginning to dim into early evening as we raced through the forest. Edythe was telling me how to hunt, but there wasn't much to it. All I had to do was stop and listen to my surroundings, and with my superior hearing I could make out their beating hearts from a long way off if I concentrated. And when the wind was blowing right, I also had my sense of smell. Of all my improved senses, it was all the new scents which fascinated me the most, even more than the super speed of being able to keep up with Edythe, or the power in my legs to jump a hundred yards in a single spring—it was like gaining a new sense altogether, with access to a world of information I'd never known existed.

Once prey was located...well, the rest would be instinctual, at least according to Edythe.

It was a good thing my brain was now capable of multitasking, or I wouldn't have been able to appreciate any of the new sensations I was feeling, or hear a word Edythe was saying. Because, though my face was perfectly smooth, beneath everything else a rising panic was beginning to stir in my stomach. I kept looking ahead, kept going over the various bits of plans I had formed, and I couldn't push away the sense that this wasn't going to work. Edythe would never just let me walk away, no matter what I said, how convincing I was.

This wasn't going to work—and Jules was going to die.

However, as with Joss, I knew dwelling on the impossibility of it was not going to help anyone. I forced myself to shut out all the doubts, the horror of how much I might hurt Edythe, and focused on it all as simply a logical problem. I still had all my human memories right now, even if they were dim and grainy, and I tried to focus once again on all the considerations I had already gone over, trying to see clearly which would be most likely to succeed. Where Edythe's greatest weakness when it came to me lay.

As before while I was burning, the old passage from Frankenstein rose hazily in my mind.

"_And she, who in all probability was to become a thinking and reasoning animal, might refuse to comply with a compact made before her creation..."_

That was one piece of the game, the strategy. My thoughts flashed back to other human memories—an expression cold and unyielding as she stood in the shadow of a wall beside an open window, a miserable ride on a motorcycle back through the rain filled with dread, only to be met with understanding. Sitting across a lunch table, a sudden screech of chair legs back against the floor, a flash of terror followed by resignation. Sitting before a movie screen in the darkness, heat rising on my skin, Edythe sitting on a bed, whispering hesitantly of an option she would not have allowed before...

I saw the answer. The avenue of attack that just might work—the weakness I might strike at.

Revulsion rose up my throat like a poison, a violent sickness. Could I really do such a thing to the person I loved most in all the world? Take everything I knew about who she was, what she feared and what she had always tried to do, and turn it into a weapon to level at her?

I forced the thought away, and instead replaced the image of what I was about to do with another image—one of Edythe, lying at Sulpicia's feet, broken. What would happen if I didn't succeed. And I thought of Jules.

Slowly, I felt my resolve solidify. I took a silent, steadying breath.

I remembered what Edythe had said to me, after she had left me so long ago back in that forest, and later come back. How she'd had to construct a new reality in my mind, one where she didn't really love me. Now, it was my turn—my turn to construct a new reality in her mind. And it just had to stick long enough for me to get away.

Little by little, the words began to come to me, the actions, the gestures. A new reality.

As a human, I'd never been a good liar. The blood in my face always gave me away, or my cracking voice. But my face was never going to turn red again, and I was the one person in the world capable of lying to Edythe. And I was going to do it.

My panic slowly subsided, replaced by total calm. Even the horrific guilt no longer wormed itself into my consciousness—my thoughts were filled with nothing but concentration. I knew what had to happen, and it would. I would make sure of it. For Edythe's sake as well as Jules.

I felt Edythe glance at me. "I think this is far enough. I'm sure we'll be fine out here."

I slowed to a stop at the same time she did.

"Are you all right?" she asked. "You look so serious." Though the corner of her mouth was curled up in amusement, her eyes were wary, worried.

I let myself continue to stare straight ahead, not looking at her, as though I couldn't hear her. I counted the seconds—_one, two, three, four._

Finally, I turned my eyes back to her, though I only let my eyes linger on her for a moment before falling away again. "Just thinking," I said. "It's nothing."

Edythe continued to watch me with some concern. "You'll feel a bit better once you've hunted," she assured me. She shook her head, smiling ruefully. "You know, a part of me had hoped that when you were changed, I'd finally be able to hear your thoughts. I suppose I should have known better."

I nearly gave an involuntary shiver at the thought—if that had happened, this entire situation really would have been hopeless.

I closed my eyes, as she had told me to do, and focused on my sense of hearing. It seemed to spread out from me in a wide field, missing nothing. I heard her light, even breathing, and the rustling of leaves in the trees. I heard the whisper of birds preening their feathers in the treetops and their fluttering heartbeats, and even the click of ant feet as they climbed in a line up the bark of a nearby tree. I found with concentration, I could push my hearing even further, and I ranged outward, searching for what I knew she meant me to find. The beating hearts of animals larger than birds—prey.

I heard the rush of water—the Gunnison River Edythe had mentioned before. I listened carefully, memorizing its location, before I ranged elsewhere. At last, I picked up the sound I was looking for—the thudding of heavy hearts, pumping thick streams of blood.

I felt the venom fill my mouth, burning on my tongue like a blazing inferno, scorching down my throat.

"To the north," I said. "A touch west."

Edythe was approving. "Yes, good. Now, wait for a bit of a breeze, and...what do you smell?"

Her scent was the closest, and the most powerful. The unusual fragrance of honey and sunlight. Though it was distracting, I forced myself to concentrate, and I soon registered the earthy smells of rot and moss. I took in the resin in the evergreens nearby, and the oddly nutty aroma of small rodents cowering beneath tree roots. However, the breeze brought me more, from the northwest. A stronger smell than the others.

I wrinkled my nose.

Edythe smiled a little. "Yes, not the tastiest prey. It takes a little getting used to."

"Herbivores?" I guessed.

"Elk," she said, nodding. "Five of them."

"I don't suppose there are any coyotes around here?" I asked hopefully.

Edythe raised an eyebrow. She eyed me like she'd never seen anyone so strange. "You're burning up with thirst, and you're still able to be picky about your dinner?"

I shrugged. "Anything has to be better than that." I wrinkled my nose again.

"If you're willing to wait, we can go find something else," she said. "If we headed up into the mountains, we might even find some mountain lions."

I hesitated. That would probably be a pretty long trip, and I didn't have time for that. I put a hand to my throat, deciding instead to focus on the burn again. "Never mind, this will do for now."

Edythe smiled, as if she thought I might say that.

I allowed all my other thoughts to fade to the background for the moment, and I followed the scent. While I found I could think clearly around the intense acid blazing in my throat, distract myself focusing on other things more important, it would be easier if the pain wasn't quite so sharp.

I moved through the forest like a ghost, silent, my feet somehow knowing where to step to avoid the cracking of a thousand tiny twigs or the muffled shifting of pine needles. At last the scent turned me down a short incline, and I halted just on the edge of a small clearing. Which was where I saw them.

Edythe had been right, they were elk. I located only three at first, but as my eyes scanned the clearing, I saw the other two Edythe had mentioned in the trees beyond.

For a second, I hesitated. One of the elk in the clearing was a female, and with it an older calf, spots still faintly visible in its fur. The other was a male—maybe the alpha of the herd, or whatever the male leader was called for elk.

It was probably stupid, with everything else that had been going on, but the thought of killing a mom, or worse, her kid, briefly disturbed me. And if I killed the dad, what would happen to the rest of them? Would they know how to fend for themselves, or might it cause them to starve over the winter?

"Beau?" Edythe murmured. She was right beside me, and she spoke so softly there was no chance the elk would hear.

I glanced at her. I couldn't let Edythe know what was going through my head. I was a hardened vampire now. Calloused. The taste of blood was everything.

I shrugged and made a face, as though it were still just the smell of herbivore that was bothering me. Then I focused on the clearing again. I had to do this now—I didn't have time for moral dilemmas.

Instead of the three obvious targets, I turned my eyes to the two in the underbrush. Both females, I thought, and without calves that I could see. Maybe I was being overly sensitive, but I couldn't help it. The biggest thing I could remember killing as a human was a big wolf spider that had crawled into the bathtub once in my old house in Phoenix. I'd been nine years old at the time, and after my mom had finished screaming her head off, I'd taken the body out to the backyard and buried it, and given its spirit a little sendoff.

The old memory, now hazy and dim, almost made me smile. Maybe some part of me just wanted to hold onto my old human sensitivity—now that I was a killing machine.

I slipped around the edge of the clearing, to come up behind the two females. I focused my gaze on the bigger one. This time, Edythe didn't follow me, instead giving me space to do my thing. I could hear the creature's beating heart loud in my ears, and the rush of blood through its veins. It still didn't smell all that appetizing, but I realized I didn't care. The thought of the taste of something hot and wet in my dry mouth was enough to overcome me.

I crept up behind it, focusing in on the pulsing spot of heat at its center, and coiled my muscles to spring.

The wind suddenly shifted. A strong, steady gust from the east, slightly north. I didn't stop to think—I sprung forward in a blur of speed, but not toward the elk. I was suddenly tearing through the forest, not bothering with stealth, as I tasted the new scent on the air.

My new life so far had been short, but still I'd experienced all kinds of new interesting scents, as my new nose opened me up to a world my human self had never even dreamed of. But this was something else entirely—a scent that made all others feel bland and even foul by comparison, an overpowering aroma so exquisite I instantly knew it was the cure to the horrific blaze in my throat. Only the taste of the blood from that scent could quench the fire, the fire that echoed the blazing pain of my days of burning venom. Now that I knew the way to stop the pain, I had to stop it. My body moved of its own accord, with compulsive, overriding need.

I ripped through the forest, pushing myself faster and faster, as desperation grew. Aspens and oaks whipped by in a flash. Forest animals darted out of my path as they sensed me draw near. I powered forward, running and running—toward the scent.

However, something drew my attention. I wasn't alone. Something was racing up behind me—another predator, tracking me, hunting me.

For a moment I kept running, still enthralled with the thing that would satisfy my ravenous hunger, my blazing thirst, but then my defenses kicked in. _Danger_, whispered a voice in the back of my mind. And at last, my instincts for self-preservation won out.

I spun around in mid-step to face my assailant. A feral snarl ripped itself from between my teeth, and I coiled, at the ready for the coming fight.

Edythe was there. Her eyes were cautious, her hands out in front of her—though whether to try to calm me, or defend herself against my attack, I wasn't sure. She stared at me, and I stared back at her, my mouth still curled back from my teeth.

The strangeness of the moment was enough to snap me from the thirst-driven madness. I stood there, still as a statue, holding my breath, until I sensed when the wind shifted again, blowing from the west this time. I took a breath and the air was clean. However, the memory of the scent still burned in my nose and mouth. Now that rational thought had returned to me, I knew instinctively what it was—the scent of human.

Horror crashed over me like a tidal wave. For a moment, I had completely lost myself. If that hapless human, whoever he or she was, had been standing right next to me, I would have killed them before I even had a chance to think. And just now, I had nearly attacked Edythe. The very person I was supposed to love more than anything.

I stopped my breathing again. As I remembered the scent it scorched my throat, and I knew if the wind changed back and I got even the hint of it, I would lose myself.

I felt like a fool—I had completely let down my guard. I had thought the burning in my throat was all I had to worry about, that for all my worrying, I had this vampire thing under control. But the vampire instincts were a force all their own, and had decided to teach me how wrong I was. I was fine now, I was myself and I could think clearly—but I could transform from myself to a monster in a moment. All before I had a chance to even think, or decide.

The terror of that fact slithered like a black snake through my mind, settling there. I knew my only option was to get out of here, so far that there would be no chance I would pick up that scent again. Because even as I was thinking clearly now, the monster might come back, and change my mind.

I spun sharply around, and ran southwest. I didn't breathe, just ran, listening to the sounds of birds and rustling branches above. The sense of smell, which had seemed like such a wonder at first, now felt like an enemy.

It wasn't until I heard the rush of water not far off that I finally came to a halt. I figured it had to be safe here, but I kept the air cut off from my lungs, just in case.

I had stopped so fast that Edythe, keeping pace with me, blew past a few paces, then circled around in a moment to stand at my side.

For a second, I didn't dare look at her as a burning shame worked its way up my still blazing throat and down into my stomach. When I finally raised my eyes, I found hers wide with shock.

When I didn't say anything, she gingerly reached out and took my wrist.

"I saw it with my own eyes," she murmured slowly, softly, "but I still don't believe it."

My gaze dropped to the forest floor. For the first time, I allowed myself to breathe, and the air was thankfully clean.

I didn't know what to say. I might have killed someone, if Edythe hadn't been there to distract me. But it was far more than that—how could I leave her and wander off on my own when I was like this? What if I crossed a human scent on the way to meet Sulpicia?

_Sulpicia wouldn't care about that,_ said a bitter voice at the back of my mind.

I gave a short, tense shrug, still squinting at the ground. "I just...I couldn't control it. I couldn't think. I just—started moving, and I couldn't stop. I..." I shook my head once, my fingers curled into fists at my side, shaking slightly. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

Edythe was staring at me with incredulity now. "_Sorry_? You don't need to apologize, Beau. I was the one who was careless—I didn't expect there would be any hikers out here so far north of the park. I should have been more vigilant."

I still didn't look at her, just kept my eyes on the ground.

"That was amazing," she said, and her breathless tone was almost exultant. "Hours old. _Hours_. Turning away after catching the scent like that in the middle of hunting would have been hard for any of us, but for a young newborn—I don't believe it."

I blinked, and I had to lift my gaze then to see if she was just trying to make me feel better. But her eyes were still wide, with a genuine look of mingled astonishment and excitement.

Some measure of relief flooded through me, seeing no disgust or disappointment in Edythe's eyes. However, she didn't know that I needed to be able to be on my own, with no chance for mistakes. It suddenly occurred to me that in my panic I was playing this unexpected event all wrong. If I was going to construct an entirely new reality, I needed to start now.

The renewed fear still pulsed at the back of my mind—of the new monster inside me I'd just caught a glimpse of. But Edythe was right, I had been in a kind of hunting mode when it happened. If, when I went to find Sulpicia, I didn't try to hunt, just kept up my concentration as I was now, maybe I could prevent my mind from being hijacked by the thirst. Mind over matter, right?

I summoned up the plans I had made, the many scenarios I had concocted and played out in my mind on the way over here. And, taking a deep, silent breath, I glanced back at her once, before I let my eyes drift up to the sky.

"So," I said, in a different voice. A voice trying but not quite succeeding to be casual. "So. That was a human's scent."

Edythe's incredulous smile shrank a little at my tone. Her eyes were wary again. "Yes," she said.

"Huh," I said. "Wow. Night and day, isn't it?"

Edythe nodded slowly, uncertainly. Her smile was still in place, but cautious. "Yes. Vegetarianism isn't the easiest path for a vampire."

I nodded. "Yeah, I knew that." I paused, counting the seconds again to make it look like hesitation, then added, "Guess there are some things you just can't understand until you experience them yourself."

Edythe didn't answer. She was watching me, a touch of tension in her creased eyebrows.

I waited again, then made a show of shrugging, like I was trying to brush it off. "Well, guess we better go find some of those elk again."

"The predators are much better than the herbivores, I promise," she said, her face still tense with worry, her tone consoling. "Mountain lions and bears smell much better than the elk."

I shrugged again. "Elk, mountain lion, it's all the same to me. I don't care."

Edythe glanced at me, and I wondered if she read the double intent in my tone. It sounded like something I would say to reassure her—like I actually didn't care what I ate, so long as we were together. But there lurked an underlying edge, too—like there was no point trying to cheer me up with the promise of mountain lions, with the the lightyears of difference in taste between stinking animals and the intoxicating allure of human blood, which I'd never fully understood until now.

What Edythe ought to do was get in my face—I was the one who had chosen this, and I knew the sacrifices going in. Was I going to mope around, complaining and moaning about it now? I knew Jules, if she wasn't trying to rip my throat out for being a monster now, probably would if she were here. _Get over yourself, _she would say._ You're the one who decided to do this, so deal with it._

But Edythe wasn't going to say any of that. Every subtle barb I made, every hint at my dissatisfaction or unhappiness she took upon herself, blamed herself for. Because she always took on the full weight of the responsibility of her decisions, and because no matter how happy she may be in a single moment with me, the guilt was always there, lurking just beneath the surface.

We found another herd of elk, this one a bit larger. Again, there were a couple of calves among them, but I wasn't quite as hesitant as I had been the first time. I kept imagining the nameless hiker—somebody's brother or sister, son or daughter, mother or father. If eating the animals could keep me from attacking humans, I didn't mind the tradeoff. I felt a sudden rush of gratitude toward Carine, for having discovered this way of life.

Of course, those were my real thoughts, the thoughts I couldn't let show—all the while my other thoughts played out in parallel, the thoughts of the character I was beginning to create.

I was a bit more savage than I really needed to be as I struck down my first kill—as though I were angry with it for tasting so bad. I broke the female's neck with my hands, and I got blood all over my shirt as I bent my head to feast on the blood. My teeth sunk easily into her neck. The taste was wrong, but I ignored it—heat rushed through me, soothing the burning ache in my throat.

The elk was a big one—maybe twice as big as me. So once I was done and I let her drained carcass drop, I couldn't believe my throat still burned with the need for more. My senses automatically ranged outward—I heard the stamping feet of the terrified heard, which had been sent scattering from my first attack. However, I paused, and instead of going after them, I turned back to Edythe.

Edythe was standing nearby, leaning casually against a tree, arms folded. She didn't look shocked or appalled at my ferocity, rather a slight smile played on her lips.

"I'm still thirsty," I said, frowning at her as if it were her fault.

"I'm not surprised," she said. "You're still new."

"Are you going to hunt, too?" I asked.

Edythe was still smiling a bit. "Yes, I might as well. I just couldn't help but watch you, that first time. Letting you run right into the center of a herd of elk, along with calves and protective mothers—it goes against the grain. I was paralyzed with anxiety."

I shook my head. "You worry too much."

"I know," she said, sighing. "I guess some old habits die hard. There are quite a few adjustments I'll have to make."

I almost smiled before I caught myself. I had to maintain the sense of distance—I could think of more than one thing at once, but still it took concentration to ensure the correct side was the only one that showed. The decisive moment was rushing upon me—I felt my stomach tighten at the thought, and while perhaps it would have been better to begin now, to forgo any more hunting, I decided to let us put it off just a little longer.

"So," I said. "If we're going to catch them, I guess we better get going." Not that I was worried. Our sense of smell would take us right to them, no matter how far ahead they got.

Edythe shook her head. "We could chase the elk, but I think I smell a herd of mule deer to the northwest. Eleanor might like a good chase, but I prefer stealth."

Edythe took off, and I let myself slip behind her, so I could observe how she hunted.

As we reached the broad open clearing where the deer were leisurely chewing their grass, I crouched down in the underbrush, and picked out a deer for myself, but then turned my eyes to Edythe instead.

I watched her circle around the edge of the clearing, her movements sinuous and silent as a cat. She focused in on a deer near the edge of the field, which was standing a little apart from the rest.

She suddenly sprung in a flash of movement that was at once elegant and fast as lightning. The deer probably didn't even have time register what was happening—it didn't have time to make a sound as Edythe struck it down, and in the next moment, she had retreated back into the cover of the forest with her kill. The remainder of the herd didn't even notice anything was wrong, and continued to chew their grass.

I stared, amazed. If I hadn't been watching, I wouldn't have been any more aware that anything had happened than the deer were. I'd always wondered what it would be like to see Edythe hunt—I'd never realized she could make that a work of art, too.

I glanced down at my own clothes, still covered in blood and dirt, and I realized I still had a lot to learn as far as hunting went.

I tried to mimic Edythe's way, circling around the clearing until I came to a deer standing a little nearer the edge than the others.

For a moment, I remembered what Edythe had once said about her hunting style. How the others had told her her hunt was more like the attack of a lion than a bear. Now that I had seen her hunt myself, I knew how accurate that description was. She didn't charge at her prey with abandon—she stalked silently up behind them, and they were dead before they even knew death was coming.

Strangely, my mind flitted back to that moment in the woods behind my house, when Edythe had left. The words she had said, creating in my mind a new reality. One where she did not really love me. Though the memories were now hazy through my dim human sight, I knew that she had left me the same way she hunted—striking with deadly precision and subtlety.

My eyes stayed on my prey, but my calculating mind raced ahead, compartmentalizing the horror and the guilt, shoving it back so it couldn't interfere. Subtlety. Deadly precision.

This time, I circled around behind my prey, careful, silent, before I sprung.

* * *

A/N: And, that's it for this one. I feel like in a lot of ways this chapter and the next are two parts of one whole, so I'm excited to get there.

(On a side note, I've recently noticed that I've stopped getting email notifications for private messages. Anyone else having this problem? On the site's main page there's something about having issues with spamming, but that was back in March, and this has only happened in the past month or so. Other notifications still seem to be working from what I can see. I think there are ways to report glitches, so I guess I'll give it another month to see if it gets fixed before I'll try looking into it.)

Anyway, thanks so much for reading and again for all your support. If you have a moment, let me know what you thought, and as always, hope to see you next time!

Posted 12/9/19


	10. Strike

A/N: Hey all! Hope you all had a nice holiday, hard to believe we're starting a new year yet again. (This project is over four years old now, if I'm calculating that right, I can't believe how the time has flown.)

Definitely a pivotal chapter this time out. Hope you enjoy, and see you at the end! :J

* * *

Chapter 9: Strike

I managed to kill the animal before it realized what was happening or had time to fight back, but unlike Edythe, the herd spotted me, and I sent them scattering.

I drank the blood of my fallen prey, again feeling the hot liquid sooth the burn in my throat, only to have it flare up again once I was finished. Again, I couldn't believe I still felt parched.

Edythe approached me, her clothes all straight and perfect, not one hair out of place. "Want to go for another one?" she asked. "I'm sure you could still catch them."

I paused for a second, then shook my head. Even though my throat was still aching, it was duller than before, and my time was running out, before Sulpicia carried through with her promise if I didn't contact her within the correct timeframe. I had to do it now, before it was too late—no matter how I might dread it, no matter how much pain it would cause.

I stood up from where I was still crouching beside the drained carcass of my prey, brushing off my pants. I turned my back on her, shoving my hands—now caked in blood—in my pockets. I listened carefully, and I was relieved when I could hear the rush of river water to the south. Not far, I thought.

I heard the soft sound of Edythe's footsteps as she came up to stand behind me. She drew level with me, then cautiously reached up to brush a strand of hair from my forehead. I didn't look at her, just kept staring out into the depths of the forest. The sun was touching the horizon now—painting the sky in a deep blood red. The color made the venom fill my mouth again.

"Are you all right, Beau?" she asked softly. She hesitated. "I know this must be so much to take in. Would it help to talk about it?"

I was silent. I continued to stare out at the western sky, watching as it darkened by degrees, so gradually my old human eyes wouldn't have been able to detect the change.

I said nothing, and Edythe didn't interrupt, only continued to watch me, with a worried expression I saw out of the corner of my eye.

Finally, I sighed and shook my head. "Sorry," I muttered. "I guess it's all so strange. I've been expecting this, and you've told me all about everything, and I know it's only been a couple of days—but it just feels like years to me. Everything feels so...different. _I_ feel different."

I felt Edythe's fingers against my wrist. Gentle, soothing. But also hesitant, nervous. She didn't know where I might be going with this.

I finally let my eyes turn from the red sky to meet hers.

I knew what I had to say, but it still felt too soon. Too abrupt.

I looked away again, back toward the sky.

"Are you having any regrets?" she asked at last, gently, kindly.

I hesitated. "No," I answered. I paused. "I mean, not exactly."

Edythe said nothing, waiting for me to continue.

I turned partway back, and I gazed at her from the corner of my eye. I saw the apprehension in her eyes—and I knew the time had come.

I closed my eyes, and sighed heavily. "Edythe, what have we been doing all this time?"

She didn't answer.

I shook my head. "Look—I can't keep doing this."

Edythe was still silent, and finally I allowed my eyes to open again. Her eyes were wide, like a frozen forest animal watching an approaching fire, but an incredulous smile was playing on her lips, like she thought I might be telling a joke.

"How long have we been together?" I asked abruptly.

Her slight smile was still in place. "You mean approximately, or are you asking for an exact day count?"

"Just a little over a year," I said, answering for her. "We've known each other for about a year and a half."

"Yes," she said, and though the small smile was still there, her eyes were wider than before, and I saw plainly the growing apprehension in their depths.

"A year and a half," I repeated, "and when it comes right down to it, we still don't know a thing about each other."

Edythe was no longer smiling. "What are you talking about, Beau? Of course we know each other."

I shook my head. "Edythe, I hate to say this, especially now, after everything—but you don't know the real me. And you never did."

Edythe didn't look like she knew what to say. She was staring at me, eyes still wide. "I don't understand, Beau." She blinked, and said suddenly, "If this is about how I don't realize how apparently plain and boring you are—"

I shook my head again. "I'm not saying that. I'm saying—look, Edythe, you've never been able to read my mind. I know you think I'm a good person—brave, self-sacrificing, all that. Because of how I moved out of Phoenix to give my mom space, and because I was willing to risk my life being with you. I knew you had this image of me—and I really wanted to live up to it. I tried to will myself into being that great guy you seemed to see in me. But the real truth is, deep down, I'm not any different from anyone else. I'm not. If you only saw Jeremy, or Logan, or any of the other guys at Forks from the outside, they'd probably seem like better people, too."

Edythe was still shaking her head. The incredulous smile was back, only now she looked almost angry. "That is absolutely ridiculous, Beau, and you know it. It wasn't Jeremy or Logan who didn't complain or say a word to anyone after my abominably rude behavior that first day. It wasn't Jeremy or Logan who kept our secret when I saved their life. You did sacrifice your personal comfort for the sake of your mother—I can't see your thoughts, but I've watched your actions. No one has watched you more closely than I have, and I know the kind of person that you are, Beau. I know you better than anyone ever has."

I sighed again, putting a hand to my head, running my fingers through my hair. "You just don't get it," I said quietly, almost to myself.

"What don't I get, Beau?" she challenged, looking me in the eye. "Explain it to me."

I looked back at her evenly. "You remember what you said in the car, as we were driving over here? The thought exercise. About if circumstances had been different, how it would have changed things."

She hesitated. "Yes."

I let my face cloud at the memory. "You said, if you had just been a normal girl, and it had been someone else who had been the vampire—McKayla, maybe, or someone else—maybe I would have fallen for them instead."

Edythe shook her head. "Like I said...pointless speculation."

I kept going. "Well, I hated it when you said that—because I knew immediately it was absolutely true."

Edythe went still for a moment. Then she shook her head again. "I told you, Beau, that doesn't matter now—"

"Because," I continued, talking over her, "it was true. It _was_ because you were a vampire. Because you were special—different. I could tell from the beginning you and your family weren't like the rest of us. And that was exactly what drew me in."

I let my mouth turn up in a faint, twisted smile, though I knew my hard eyes didn't change. "Here's the thing, Edythe. My mom always said I took after my dad. I was the quiet, responsible one. I had to be, to take care of her—my mom was so impractical. She went from one thing to the next, and she had a tendency to get in trouble with money until I took over the finances. I was the stable one. But the truth is, deep down, a part of me took after her. That pull toward adventure, excitement. I forced it down, blocked it out, because someone had to make sure things were taken care of. Then I met you."

Edythe was staring back at me, and this time she didn't interrupt. She didn't look appalled or hurt, but her frame was tense, rigid, like she was waiting for the real blow to hit.

I went on—unraveling the history she had known, reworking it for the lies still to come. "I didn't leave my mom for my mom's sake," I said. "I left because I had to get away from her—after everything I'd sacrificed to take care of her, giving up all the things I really wanted to do, she'd replaced me. She suddenly didn't need me anymore, so I didn't want to need her anymore. I came to Forks out of desperation. I told you I left because her being separated from Phil was making her unhappy—I wasn't lying, there was a part of me that felt that way. But it wasn't the whole truth."

Edythe shook her head slowly, her wide eyes never moving from my face. "I don't believe you," she whispered. "Why are you saying these things, Beau?"

Perhaps I should have felt a stab of panic, at the possibility she might see through my facade. If she saw through my lies enough to realize I must be saying all this for some hidden reason, then all was lost. However, I had slipped so completely into my new role that it almost felt like the truth, and if I was telling the truth, I had no reason to fear anything.

I let my twisted, bitter smile grow wider. "Course you don't believe me. I knew how you saw me—wanted to see me. I was glad when I found out you couldn't read my mind, that you couldn't see how petty I was, how pathetic. Of course you wouldn't believe anything that interferes with the picture you've drawn up of me."

Edythe stood tense for one long moment. But then I blinked as Edythe's posture suddenly relaxed. The shock in her face faded, and she sighed, raising her gaze to meet mine.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, gazing at me with eyes filled with remorse. "Of course it would be natural for you to have felt that way. I didn't mean—please, tell me anything. I don't mean to make you feel that you need to put on some kind of facade to satisfy expectations I seem to be projecting. I want you to be yourself, Beau. I have always wanted simply to understand you, the negative as well as the positive, no matter how terrible you may think it is. You never need to feel you have to live up to some perceived fantasy you believe I have of you. I love _you—_and nothing will change that."

She reached out, offering her hand palm up for me to take.

I stared down at it. Some part of my now expansive brain registered just how incredible the girl standing in front of me really was. Even though what I was saying was threaded with lies, it was true I could never have possibly deserved her—not in any lifetime. Had there ever been anyone so loving, so kind and understanding?

However, the forefront of my mind was deadly focused—this was a game of words, and it would take my full concentration to win.

I stared down at her hand for a long moment more, then let my eyes rise back up to hers. My hands, hanging at my sides, didn't move, and finally she let her hand drop, though her gentle, determined expression didn't change.

I let my eyes wander briefly back up to the trees, before my gaze returned to her.

"Are you sure you want to know everything I'm thinking, Edythe?" I murmured. "Even..."

I was suddenly beside her, without even having to think about it. However, she didn't flinch. Instead, her eyes continued to watch me steadily, never moving from my face, even as I leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"Even if I said...I realized...I don't actually love you after all?"

Quiet. A soft breeze curled through the trees, blowing wisps of Edythe's long bronze hair across her face.

I drew back, to get a look at her expression, but I saw no discernible reaction. She only gazed back at me.

When she finally spoke, her voice was almost polite. "Would you explain that, please?"

I stepped back, folding my arms. "Okay," I said, "it's not that I don't love you. I do love you—it's just, as I was burning, I had a lot of time to think. I could finally see things clearly, so much more than when I was human—and I realized, as much as I thought I loved you, I realized it wasn't a good kind of love. It never was. From the beginning, it's been an obsession more than actual love. It's powerful, but it's not the kind of thing that can last. I wasn't able to see that until now."

Edythe considered. I could see as she worked to pull all the pieces of what I had said together. Her tone was still polite, almost businesslike as she said, "So...what you're saying is, your love is more about physical desire—attraction to my physical appearance—and also attraction to the new and mysterious. Stimulation from that which is strange and different, not unlike your mother's impulses for adventure, new pursuits and passions."

I shrugged. "I guess you could put it that way."

"Hmmm," she said. "I can easily believe that in the beginning—in fact, I was only too aware of the role physical attraction must have played in your tolerance of my initiating inappropriately probing conversations, and my being around you in general. But I have trouble believing that could have carried you through all this. Think of all the danger I have placed you in, which you have never once complained of—though of course, if you have been inwardly harboring resentment on that count, feel free to air it at any time—and even the great sacrifice you have just barely made. You've given up your human life—was it a shallow infatuation that's led you to this?"

I looked away from her, toward the forest. "No," I said evenly.

She nodded.

My eyes returned to her. "But the thing is, Edythe, I didn't change only for you. I thought that was my primary reason, back as a human—or maybe I was just trying to convince myself that. But the truth is, I _wanted_ to be a vampire. Whether you were in the equation or not."

We stared at each other for a long moment, both calm, serious. Then, abruptly, I was standing beside an elm ten feet away. I didn't look at it—I just struck out with one hand. The bark fell in splinters around my fist, and I felt the crater in the trunk—it felt like punching through paper mache. In an instant, I circled around the edge of the forest, coming to a dead stop some distance behind her.

Edythe could have followed my movement easily, but she didn't move at first, only turned slowly.

I stared down at my hands, then clenched them into fists. I slowly raised my gaze to hers.

"If someone saw power like this, who wouldn't want it?" I whispered. "Who wouldn't want to be Superman?"

"Even if it means giving up your humanity?" she asked.

The sun had completely sunk behind the horizon now, and I knew as a human, the air would probably have felt chilly against my skin. But my skin was so much colder than the air around it, and I felt my mouth curl in a smile just as cold. "Humanity is overrated."

Edythe watched me over her shoulder. Again, she did not react.

I let the smile fade from my face, and my hands dropped. "So...now you know," I said quietly.

The last vestiges of color were fading from the sky, leaving only darkness behind. Even though my vampire sight could see with perfect clarity, and the night was full of color as the day, somehow it seemed to close around me, heavy and suffocating.

Edythe gazed at me for a moment longer. Then, wordlessly, she stretched her hand back for me to take. The kindness and understanding in her eyes was unchanged.

Before I had time to think, I felt my own hand automatically raise halfway—then I stopped myself. No, this bit of playacting wasn't done. The ending was already set, and it wasn't going to be a happy one.

I clenched my fist, and I wrenched my gaze away from hers. I sighed. "Look, Edythe, I'm not telling you all this because I'm looking for forgiveness."

Her hand was still raised toward me, palm up. "There's nothing to forgive," she answered.

"I don't love you," I said. "Not the way I should. Not the way you deserve to be loved."

"That doesn't matter," she insisted. "If you don't feel like you love me enough, I will make you fall in love with me again. I will win you over. I have all of eternity, and I can be patient—" A hint of a smile touched her lips. "If I make a great effort."

I stared back at her for a second, and then I shook my head. "I'm sorry, Edythe."

"You don't have to apologize."

The expression in my eyes didn't change. "Yes, I do," I said softly.

Edythe gazed back at me, at the expression on my face.

"We've both said we didn't like there to be secrets standing between us," I said. "But I was a hypocrite when I said that, because that's not the reason I'm telling you all this now. I would never have told you any of this—if I was going to stay with you."

There was a moment of silence. Edythe said nothing. Her eyes never moved from my face, and I watched as her hand slowly dropped back to her side.

"I decided," I said. "After everything we've been through, if I was going to leave, you deserved to know the reasons why."

Edythe continued to gaze at my face. When she spoke, her voice was faint, disjointed. "Leave? But surely... I don't see...I mean..." She shook her head slowly.

I sighed. "It's too late, Edythe. All my flaws, all the bad things about me I knew you couldn't see—I tried to push them down. I thought if I just loved you enough, I could be the guy you saw. I wanted to be. But... now that I've seen my love for you for what it is, I just don't have the willpower anymore. I don't think I can live Carine's way like you do. Now that I know the difference between what you eat, and what our kind is meant to eat—"

My mouth twisted with the memory of the elk's pungent smell in my nostrils, and the unpleasant taste of its blood. I continued, "I know what I was planning to be before I changed, but I don't think I can do that now. I still care about you, Edythe, and I hope you do okay—but I can't take the moral high road like you do if my heart's not in it. I'm going to go out and find myself a new coven, and live like a normal vampire. This is goodbye, Edythe."

I took a slow step back.

For the first time, Edythe's calm cracked.

She took a staggering step forward, gold eyes wide and wild, her hands outstretched. "Don't," she whispered. "Please, don't. I'll do anything."

The torture in her voice nearly shook my resolve. I had to picture Jules, chained by Sulpicia, and then Sulpicia breaking Edythe to pieces, to keep my thoughts steady. "I'm going," I said. "I'm sorry, Edythe. I know it's bad, selfish—but I have to."

Edythe moved so fast she was a blur. She was suddenly standing right in front of me, her hand gripping my wrist.

My newborn instincts kicked in at the abrupt movement, and I snarled, automatically stepping back and trying to rip my arm from her grip.

However, she held on, and she stepped with me. She gazed up at me, face full of agony, pleading. "Don't," she whispered again. "Don't leave."

I still wasn't fully recovered from the shock of her sudden approach, and I heard myself saying in a cold voice—a voice that wasn't mine, but the beautiful, hard voice of a new vampire, "If you wanted to keep me in a cage, you shouldn't have changed me."

Edythe drew back in shock, as if I had struck her. However, her hand didn't release my wrist. "Please," she whispered. "If you can't live Carine's way—take me with you. You can choose how we live. I can help—I told you how I lived on criminals. I can do it again. We can hunt like that together..."

Shock snapped me from the anger triggered by self-defense. Was she saying she would go back—back to hunting humans—for me?

I shook it off. "Edythe," I said in a low, almost cruelly gentle voice, "haven't you heard what I've been saying? I don't love you. I don't want to be with you."

Her grip on my wrist tightened. "You didn't say that. You said you don't love me the right way—but I'm yours, Beau. I'll give you whatever part of me that you might still want."

I shook my head. "I don't want you, Edythe—not anymore. Becoming a vampire, wanting blood more than anything—that's what helped me see myself clearly for the first time. It's gone, Edythe. My obsession. My feelings were flimsy from the start, and they're all gone now. They won't come back." I hesitated. "What I said before, about you constructing a fantasy version of me—I finally realized, that's what I've been doing too. I constructed a fantasy version of you, and I was obsessed with it—but unlike you, when I let go of the perfect fantasy, I couldn't want to stay."

Edythe didn't let go, only redoubled her grip, pressing so hard my old human bones would have snapped like twigs under the pressure. "Take me with you," she whispered. "I will help you find a new coven. You won't know if you can really trust them without me. You are still so new, you need help from someone older, more experienced. Take me as your servant, your tool—I promise I won't speak to you except as your aid, when you need something."

I stared at her. I was in danger of losing my concentration, with all these things pouring from her mouth I wasn't sure what to make of.

"You'd be in the way," I said at last. "I don't want to be alone forever—I'll want to find a mate eventually. With you there, shadowing along behind me, I couldn't."

She stared back at me, and I hesitated—though my voice came out smooth and even, I was letting my distraction get to me. I couldn't let myself sound like a cheap villain—everything I said had to sound authentic, like something _I_ would say.

I backtracked a little. "Sorry," I muttered, shaking my head. "I'm sorry, Edythe, it's just—it's over. It's too late to go back, and I think the best thing for both of us is just to move on to the next stage of our lives. I'm sorry to be a jerk, but I have to be honest, and I don't want you to come with me. You think I can be happy with—with my former wife from my human life there in the background? You think I could be happy torturing you like that? It wouldn't work for you to come with me as some kind of slave, and you know it."

Edythe didn't let go of my arm. "You don't know the dangers out there, Beau," she said softly, pleadingly. "Especially for a new, inexperienced vampire. Take me with you. Once you find a new coven—I promise, I'll leave. I'll disappear, and I won't ever bother you again."

I felt a chill down my spine. However, I forced my voice to be hard as I said, "Disappear? What, you're going to go to the Volturi again?"

Shock flitted across her face at my harsh, derisive tone, and I had to fight with everything I was to keep the hard look in place.

"No," she whispered. "No, I...as long as you're alive, Beau, somewhere in this world, I will stay alive. Just in case you have some need of me." She added quietly, pleadingly, "Take me with you, Beau. Let me help you. I will do anything you ask."

My insides were twisting—I could no longer hold her gaze, as she looked at me with eyes so filled with such acute torment. I was doing all this because I wanted to save Jules while keeping her safe, but in this moment, I felt like I was burying her.

I closed my eyes. I concentrated one more time on what would happen if I failed, to her, to Jules, and I built up my resolve for my final attack. When I opened my eyes again, I looked back into hers, my gaze as hard as flint.

"You know," I said in a low voice, "you were right—how little things can completely change the way things turn out. I fantasized about you from the beginning, but if you had never looked at me, it probably would have stayed as nothing but a fantasy. I never expected anything, you know—if you hadn't looked at me, I probably would have just lived out my life like normal. Maybe I would be getting ready to go to college now. Maybe Jules and I would be seeing each other, or there would be some other girl. I would be my responsible self, and all the bad things about me I didn't want to take over would never have been allowed to come to the surface. Maybe it wouldn't have turned out like this."

Edythe gazed up at me. For a moment her features seemed frozen in time, face white as bone with a horror and guilt she must have relived a thousand, thousand times in the past year, the very regret that had most tormented her.

At last, the tense fear and desperation in her face slowly faded. She looked up at me with eyes that were suddenly dull, and her face held no expression. For the first time, her grip on my wrist slackened.

I pulled from her limp hand, taking a step back. "Sorry," I said.

Her expression didn't change. As I slowly started to turn away, she called after me, her voice low, "Be careful. You know our laws. Don't do anything to attract Sulpicia's notice."

I froze for the barest fraction of a second, but it was too short for her to notice. "Yeah," I said. "I know. Don't worry about me."

She added softly, "Remember, if you ever need anything...if there's anything you ever want...you know where to find me."

I turned my head partway to stare back into her eyes, empty with resignation, and for the first time, I saw my own reflection there. I gazed into her eyes, and I saw a pale monster with bright crimson eyes looking back at me.

I nearly broke then—I nearly took it all back, and told her everything, that it was all Sulpicia's doing, that she had Jules captive and I was just playing her game for the chance of saving her.

But I knew I couldn't. I knew Edythe too well, knew that while she might let me go like this, thinking I was just going to be traveling on my own, she would never let me go alone to the danger of the likes of Sulpicia. This was the only thing I could do to protect her.

"Sure," I said quietly. I stood there for a moment longer, the only sound that of the woods around us, the chirping of birds in the distance, the scramble of small animals in the trees, the rustle of foliage in the light wind. The sun was gone, and darkness had fallen like a curtain of black smoke after a fire. I raised my left hand and, gently, tugged the small gold band off my finger. I held it out for a moment, then let it slip through my fingers, where it fell to the hard packed earth below, amid dead twigs and torn leaves. It bounced once, then settled there, a glittering bit of gold barely visible in the darkness.

Then I turned and walked away, leaving Edythe gazing after me, with the hopeless torment of her lost dreams and knowledge of the monster she had created in her eyes.

* * *

I took off running. I pushed my feet through the forest with everything I had, and I was little more than a breath of wind, dodging in and out between the thick trunks. It was easy—like second nature. I'd always wondered how Edythe could run through the woods without ever hitting anything, but now I knew. My reaction time was so fast it felt like everything had slowed down around me. I had plenty of time to dodge as the trees came up slowly before me.

I tried to focus on the running, and not think—but of course, that was impossible. My mind was too quick, and the conversation continued to play, bits and pieces snapping at me again and again, like the lightning fast strikes of poisonous snakes, sinking their fangs into my skin.

_I don't want you._

I leaped over a tree root and ducked a low branch without breaking stride.

_It wasn't a good kind of love. It never was._

Images of Edythe's pained face filled my mind. Her kind words in the face of my brutality. But it was her offer to come with me, to hunt like me, that made my stomach turn in on itself until it was nearly a physical pain. Edythe loved me, far more than I could have ever known—so much that I, more than anyone else, had the power to turn her into a monster.

I reached the river. Without pausing to consider, I plunged into the current. For a moment I tread there, holding onto a rock by the bank as the current battered against me. I could swim upstream if I chose—my weak human body wouldn't have stood a chance, but I felt in my limbs that I could do it with ease now.

As I hung there a moment longer, my mind flashed back to that moment by the cliffs in La Push, when I had nearly drowned, and Jules had rescued me. It was a dim memory now, hard to see through my old weak human eyes. However, I didn't let it slip away, holding onto it tightly. I knew I didn't have time to waste—I had to save Jules, the way she had saved me.

After a moment's more consideration, I let go of the rock, and I turned and powered down the river with the current. I could swim upstream if I needed to, but I thought it was better to go west, with the flow. I didn't have an exact map in my head, but I thought if I went east the river would eventually turn south, and take me directly into the heart of the park, and I might be in danger of running into hikers again. I only hoped I wouldn't run into any stray rafters this far north.

Just in case, I held my breath and dove down deep into the river, hoping the black of night and white foam of the rapids would hide me from sight if anyone happened by. I couldn't smell anything above down here, and perhaps that would keep me from going crazy again.

I shot like a javelin through the water, and with each powerful kick of my legs, I seemed to go faster. My confidence Edythe would no longer be able to catch up to me, even if she changed her mind and tried to follow, grew. I had discovered during our hunting trip that she was a faster runner than I was, even with my newborn strength, but I doubted she could be as fast as this in the water. I'd been a good swimmer as a human, and I could feel it now with every stroke of my arms. And of course, she wouldn't be able to follow my scent.

However, as I planned, I very much doubted she would follow me, at least for a while. I'd been convincing, of that much I was sure. By the time doubts started to creep in, if they ever did, I would be with Sulpicia, and Jules.

I swam, and swam. My clothes would have felt like lead if I were human, but they were nothing as I powered onward, continuing to head west. At some point, I took a fork off the main river, but I regretted it as, after a few miles, the water narrowed to barely more than a stream. It was filled with rocks and debris, and as it grew more shallow, eventually it forced me to stand up. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised—it was late summer, and natural that the water levels would be low.

Although the sky was still black, I had been keeping track of the time, of each passing minute, and I knew the sun would be breaching the horizon in barely a few hours' time. I would be exposed here. I kept walking through the stream to conceal my scent, until I reached a deep forested area, where I finally stopped.

I should be far enough away here. There would be no way Edythe could track me this far.

Crouching beside a tree, I drew the cell phone from my pocket. I was relieved to find that the plastic disposable bag had done its work, and the phone was perfectly dry.

Holding it gingerly, I carefully opened it.

For a second, I saw my own reflection in the black, empty screen. I hadn't really taken time to look at my new appearance, hadn't seen more than a glimpse in Edythe's haunted eyes—now I froze.

It was a face I barely recognized. My head was vaguely the same shape, the features all in approximately the same place, but now the planes all had hard angles, like someone had taken a chisel to them. It was a good-looking face, no doubt about that, but it was alien, a stranger.

However, most of all, it was the eyes that paralyzed me where I was. They glowed a brilliant crimson in the darkness, the color of freshly spilled blood.

It was a monster staring back at me. I knew if I had met this creature down an alley as a human, I would have been terrified. And as I thought about my reaction to the smell of human as I hunted, I knew I would have had a right to be.

I suddenly wondered what Jules would think, when she saw this face. Would she rather see me dead? Would it be to her as though I was? Worse yet—when I saw her, smelled her, was there a chance I might try to attack her?

I closed my eyes. I couldn't worry about all that now. I still wanted to save her—that proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that there was still a large part of me that was myself, and I just had to count on that. If it turned out Jules hated me, then she hated me, but I would still do everything I could to save her.

I reached up with my thumb, and held down the button to turn on the phone. After a moment, the screen lit up. I opened the history, and selected Sulpicia's number. I took a silent breath, then put the phone to my ear.

The phone barely had time to ring once before someone answered.

"Hello?" said a polite, gentle voice.

I stared straight ahead, at the dark forest. I listened to the rapids of the narrow, nearly dry stream behind me beating against the sharp rocks. At the sound of that voice, something pulsed through me. Something burned in my veins, in my mouth, that had nothing to do with thirst. Here was the one—the one who was hurting everyone I cared about.

When I spoke, my new, beautiful vampire's voice was cold as ice.

"Sulpicia."

* * *

A/N: And, there you have it. This one's been a long time in coming, there are lots of aspects I kept fiddling with and some things I might wish I'd changed, but it's exciting to finally get to this point. I think of it a bit as the long conversation that didn't happen in New Moon.

On another note, email notifications for pms are still not working. I tried emailing ffnet support but never heard back, so I went on the forums and found out it seems ffnet has intentionally turned the function off to combat spam. (I've linked to the discussion in my profile if you're interested. Sounds like we have no idea when email notifications for pms are coming back, definitely a major inconvenience, as many people only check the site or their profile once in a great while, if at all, and without pm email notifications, there's no easy way to contact them.) We'll just have to keep hoping it will be resolved soon.

Thank you all so, so much for all your support all this time, and for your thoughts and comments. It means so much to me you've been able to enjoy this story even a little, I've had so much fun working on it, it's hard to believe we've been going for four years now. Thanks again, if you have a moment, let me know what you thought, and see you in the next chapter! :J

Posted 1/6/20


	11. Crisis

A/N: Hey all! Not too much to say this time, except the site still hasn't turned its email notifications for pms back on (sigh).

In any case, thank you all so much for all your thoughts and comments last chapter, it was definitely a tricky one but I'm glad to have finally gotten this far. (And also an early Happy Valentine's Day to everyone! It's that time of year again.)

And, now on to this particular story's best-kept secret. Hope you enjoy, and see you at the end! :J

* * *

Chapter 10: Crisis

**Edythe**

I don't know how long I stood there, in the woods. My mind was perfectly blank—too blank, even to count the seconds, then the minutes, then hours. I didn't know if I was waiting for something, or if I was simply unable to move.

I stood there so long, so perfectly still, that eventually the animals that had cleared the area at Beau's and my approach returned to the surrounding trees, birds chattering, squirrels scrambling through trees. It was as though I didn't exist.

I didn't mind. The thought of not existing—it was a blessed thought. Or better yet, to have never existed at all. If only I had died in 1918, as I was meant to, and so I could never do what I had done.

It wasn't until the first strobes of sunlight touched the forest as the sun broke the horizon that I came to life again. Though the sunlight didn't in any way hurt my eyes, I squinted into it, and raised a hand to block it from my sight. I cowered away from it, as though all the legends of our kind burning in the light of the sun were true after all. However, there was one last thing I needed.

I crept forward and, my teeth gritted, I picked up the ring he had discarded. For a moment, the light caught the edge of the band, and it glittered.

I cringed back from the reflected light and, gripping the object tightly in my hand, in an instant, I was off running through the woods. Startled animals flew every which way—a chipmunk that had been foraging for nuts froze, then dove beneath a tree root, and a white-throated sparrow took flight. I ran and ran, my head down, dodging trees by centimeters, barely registering anything around me as I sent more animals scurrying from my path. They all sensed the monster I was. I wondered why Beau hadn't. I wondered why he hadn't run from me that first day—hadn't had the slightest suspicion of what I would someday do to him.

I didn't stop until I reached the cabin. I wrenched open the door, and slammed it behind me, shutting out the light. There I leaned against the door for a moment, staring at nothing. Then I slowly sank to the floor.

All was quiet, but for the muffled sounds of the forest outside, and the hum of the electric generator. I didn't even have the sound of my own heartbeat to listen to—it was dead and still, as it always was.

I had felt this way once before—as though my heart, frozen as it was, had been ripped from my chest and crushed to pieces, as though I had no purpose left. Back then, when I had left Beau, standing in the forest.

It had taken all my willpower to leave Beau back then, to tell the horrible lies that had seemed so necessary at the time. For days, weeks, I had done nothing but lay, curled on the ground, concentrating on not going back. On strengthening my resolve, on forcing myself to do what I thought had to be best for him. Every day, every hour, every second had felt like an eternity. I thought surely the agony of separation would kill me, but to my dismay, my existence continued to linger, through each day, and through each long, terrible night. I'd had to focus on getting through each minute, because if I thought for even a moment of the eternity stretching out before me, I knew I could never hold out. I would give in to my weakness, just as I had every time before.

In the end, all my efforts had done was inflict the same agony on Beau. I had only forced on him pain he had not asked for, had not had a choice in. I saw now only too clearly I had already ruined his life from the moment I had returned to Forks from my run to Denali that first week. Staying away from him that first day was the only way I might have saved him from this fate—by the time I had worked out the resolve to leave, I had already been far too late.

I wrapped my arms around myself, bowing my head to my knees. The words repeated themselves in my mind, again and again. _Too late. Too late. Too late._

Still, there had been one night during those long months away that had been worse than all the others, far worse than this. As the shock of the realization of my latest wrong against Beau began to wear off, it was soon replaced by a crippling anxiety. I shouldn't have let him go, even if it was what he wanted, demanded. How could I know if he was safe? He was so new, and if ran across the wrong vampires, or made such a blatant mistake it attracted the Volturi's attention—

I knew I had let my emotions get the best of me. In that moment, when Beau had at last told me the truth, the deepest truth I had always known of what I had done, the thought of disrespecting his wishes—his first true request for himself from the time we had met— had seemed impossible. But while this separation would be an agony beyond description, it would be nothing to if something were to happen to him. He was long gone—how now could I know if he was all right?

For the first time, my eyes drifted down, toward the phone tucked into my pocket. Archie—Archie could tell me. I knew Beau would not like me to continue to follow him this way, but—I had to know.

I had already withdrawn the phone, my thumb hovering over the numbers in readiness to dial, when I froze as a thought struck me. Archie had told me he would be doing his best to keep his gaze off us for a few days—this was our honeymoon after all, and he knew how Beau could be about these things—but could he have already seen any of these events?

Surely not—if he had seen Beau becoming a vampire, he would have tried to contact me, I was sure. And Beau's decision to leave—even if it was a fairly abrupt decision, Archie would certainly have tried to warn me if he had seen it coming. Surely. And yet—

Sickness churned in my mind at the thought of Archie being aware of these events, of having seen any part of the conversation Beau and I had had. The thought of his knowing, and worse, telling the others, was unbearable.

My hand hesitated on the phone. I needed to know if Beau was safe, and yet, even if Archie hadn't seen anything of this happening, for me to find out about Beau's future would mean drawing Archie's attention to it. Letting him see that Beau was already one of us, and that he had turned away from us. Dread of that moment rose in my mind like a phantom, and my thumb didn't move.

The phone suddenly buzzed in my hand, and I went perfectly still for an instant, startled. The ID flashed across the small screen. It seemed I had already drawn his attention—no turning back now.

I took a breath, then carefully punched in the receive button and put the phone to my ear.

"...Hello?" My voice came out low, without emotion.

"Edythe?" Archie asked. "What's going on? Where's Beau?"

I listened to the tone of his voice. He sounded confused, a bit alarmed—but not angry. He must not have seen anything.

It made sense in some way I supposed—Archie's power was not always predictable. Sometimes he received visions without trying, but without a deliberate decision to watch something he didn't see everything, and even major events could slip through the cracks. My internal debate about calling him must have triggered his power, given that it was a decision that directly involved him.

I sagged slightly in relief. But just to be sure I added slowly, carefully, "What...did you see?"

"Not much," he answered. He was talking fast. "You know I've been trying to give you some privacy for the last few days—you know. Instead I've been focusing everything on trying to get a glimpse of Sulpicia again. Still nothing. I just figured you would call me if anything serious was going down. But just now, this vision came to me—you there at the cabin, alone, sitting there like you've just had your soul sucked out."

I nodded slowly to myself. That confirmed it, Archie hadn't seen everything that had happened. He didn't know—not yet, anyway. I desperately didn't want him to know any more than he already did, and yet, I had to know if Beau was all right.

"Can't you see Beau's future?" I asked quietly.

I expected Archie to go quiet, as he looked ahead, and saw Beau in his new, immortal body as he sought out a new coven—perhaps found some prey on the way. For him to see only too clearly what I had done. However, he answered immediately.

"No," he said, with a touch of frustration. "When I tried to check just now, I realized his future had disappeared, just like Sulpicia's. I'm not sure what's going on, if it's something to do with him or if my powers have gone on the fritz. What's going on? Is he there with you, and I'm just not seeing it? Or what?"

I didn't speak. I had frozen where I was. His future was gone? Did that mean—it couldn't mean he was already—

I forced that thought from my mind. I couldn't let myself even consider the idea, or I wouldn't be able to function. Surely not this soon—he was one of us now, and he wasn't so breakable as he had been before. And Archie should still be able to see him, even if the worst had happened.

"Is he there?" Archie insisted. "Do you see him?"

I gripped the phone. I said, so softly the speaker barely picked it up, "No."

Silence. Then Archie said, in a voice of forced calm, "Where is he, then?"

I didn't answer.

"You've got to talk to me, Edy," Archie insisted, his voice suddenly sharp. "What happened? I know you wouldn't just let him wander off on his own in the woods unless there was some good reason. _What's going on?_"

I still didn't speak. I didn't think I could have even if I had wanted to.

"Is it Julie Black?" he asked. "Was she there? Did she take Beau with her?"

This was such an unexpected theory I almost laughed, and I was momentarily shaken from my silence.

"No," I said. "What makes you ask that?"

Archie was silent, and though I couldn't hear his thoughts over the phone, I could almost hear him absorbing my tone that bordered on hysterical, measuring what it might mean.

"Well, the only times Beau's future has disappeared, it's always been when he was with Julie Black. And she's been running around half the country as a wolf, right? I thought she might have found a way to follow you out there, maybe hoping to sabotage you."

Again, I had to suppress a laugh. I opened my mouth to say that the problem of Julie Black was the last thing on my mind—and then I froze.

It was so improbable, that he would run into Julie Black of all people out in this wilderness. And yet, hadn't I been the one to say that he was a magnet for trouble—that anything remotely dangerous within fifty miles would invariably find him? And if she had been following us up here at a distance...

I could picture her large dark outline, lurking in the trees as she tracked us from miles behind, staying just outside the range of my extra hearing. And then, exactly three days later, her picking up a scent, the scent of a new cold one she had never smelled before... The person she had loved, now a vampire. A monster. And finding him on his way to live the life of a normal vampire, consuming the blood of humans.

Beau had always underestimated the danger Julie Black posed. He was often careless with his words—he let slip things that had the potential to set her off. He always told her the truth, no matter the consequences. Was it possible, seeing what he had become, that she might consider it an act of love for the old Beau she had known to...to...

Something icy slid into my stomach. My lungs stopped working.

Then I felt the ice shift, turning to a blazing inferno.

If that was the case, she would pay. I would finally put a permanent end to her.

"Edythe?" Archie said, cutting into my thoughts. "You of all people should know there's no point not saying anything to try to shut me out, because I'm watching you right now, and I saw that look that just crossed your face. One more time, are you going to explain what's going on, or are you going to force me to come down there?"

My mind was racing. If Julie Black had been close by, if she had run into Beau—was there any chance she might have lingered close enough for me to track? Surely after seeing what I had done to Beau, she would come for me next. Unless—unless, she realized that she wouldn't stand a chance against me and my powers alone, and after finishing with Beau, she had returned to the pack, to ask for their assistance in taking care of me.

I wouldn't normally expect such foresight from her—where the two of us were concerned, she had always tended to overestimate her own fighting abilities and strength, and underestimate mine—but I knew only too well how all-consuming, blazing rage could be so powerful it led to clearer, cooler thinking than usual. Very possibly her hatred for me was so great that she would have no interest in a one-on-one battle of honor, or making a macho show of trying to take revenge for Beau herself. Maybe she would just want me dead.

My breathing was coming faster now. If that was the case, I couldn't let her reunite with the wolf pack. If I was going to kill her, I had to get to her before then, or she would be beyond me. The other wolves might even use her as bait. With their connected minds, very possibly some of them were already headed this way to join her, and get me. They knew they would have the advantage if they could catch me away from the others.

All this flashed through my mind in an instant. I had no idea if any of this was happening—it was all pure speculation. All I knew was that Archie couldn't see Beau's future, and we knew that close proximity to the wolves made anyone's future disappear.

I had to find out. And if that was what was happening—perhaps I could still save Beau. And if not, well, I had to get to Jules Black before she rejoined the pack. The moment she saw me, I would know in an instant if she had seen Beau, and if she had done anything to him. And if she had...I would kill her.

"Sorry, Archie," I said. "I've got to go."

I just had time to hear him swear before I snapped the phone shut. I was no more than a blur as I threw open the door and blasted outside.

It was nearing mid-morning now, and the sun was almost halfway to its zenith. The light shattered off my skin, setting the colors to glittering like a prism. I would have to be careful to keep away from any populated areas.

I knew the precise spot where Beau and I had last spoken—even though the bit of forest looked little different from the forest surrounding it, I knew that the precise shape of the trees and arrangement of the plants on the packed dirt ground would be seared into my memory forever. As I reached the place, I sucked in a deep breath, drawing in his scent from half a day ago. I barely lingered there a moment before I tore off after it.

He had gone straight south. As I ran, fear gripped my chest. Would I find a billowing pillar of purple smoke, filled with his remnants? I did my best to block the thought from my mind, lest I fall to my knees and curl up against the base of a tree, never to move again. Only the blazing rage at the mere possibility kept me powering on.

If I did find what was left of him...the perpetrator would pay. I would tear her limb from limb and burn her to ashes. How many times had I fantasized about having my hands around Julie Black's neck? I had never once considered actually killing her, so long as she was important to Beau. But now...

I knew Beau would not like what I planned in the face of these events, if they were true. He had never wanted vengeance, even against Joss—much less would he want me to hunt down and murder someone he had cared about so much. However—though I knew that, I could not stop. I could not follow him to death in peace until I crushed his murderer with my own hands.

As I ran, I heard the rush of water up ahead. I felt a flicker of foreboding, which turned to painful dismay as I reached the bank, and the trail of his scent came to an abrupt end. He must have gone into the river—I wouldn't be able to follow his scent there. I couldn't tell if he had gone upstream or downstream, and even if I could have, it would be difficult to find exactly where he had gotten out again, especially if he branched off into one of the tributaries. I might have to travel down them all before I picked up his scent again.

I stood there by the river's side, staring out across the water, my eyes seeing nothing as understanding began to sink in. It took me a moment to notice my phone was buzzing in my pocket again, and numbly I pulled it out and checked the ID. Opening to the screen, I hit the receive button and put it to my ear.

"Hey," Archie said, sounding annoyed. "I don't know what you're looking for, but you're not going to find it."

I didn't answer. I no longer needed Archie's powers to tell me that.

"I'm headed down there now," he said. "Wait for me, and don't do anything dumb. I should be there by sundown."

I opened my mouth to argue, to tell him to go back to Forks—but then I hesitated. What was I going to tell him? To go back to the others, and wait to see if Julie Black came back into town, so they would be in position to get my revenge for me? If my still as of yet unsubstantiated theory was true, this was between me and Julie Black, and possibly the rest of the pack if she got them riled up against me. I couldn't drag my family into it. And besides, the only way I could find out for sure if Julie Black had actually run into Beau and done the worst was if I saw her in person myself. Then again, if Julie Black ran back to the pack and told them I'd broken the treaty, would they allow the my family to stay out of it?

I gritted my teeth as I glared out at the water.

For the first time since all this began, my mind wandered back to the beginning. To that one phone call that seemed to fall down from the heavens as fast and devastating as a lightning strike.

Sulpicia. Sulpicia had caused this—if not for her interference, Beau and I would still be on our honeymoon, as normal. Had it really been so important that he change so quickly? Or had she just decided now was the time to exert control over the situation—to prove to me and my family that we could never defy her?

I felt my fist clench convulsively at my side at the thought. And yet—we had been planning to change Beau for some time, even if not quite this soon. Had this outcome been inevitable from the beginning?

I closed the phone and scanned the landscape, even staring down into the depths of the flashing rapids, searching for some clue as to which way he might have gone—but of course, there was none. He had not yet learned stealth in the hunt, but still he had all the natural finesse granted him by his new body.

At last, I turned to the east and ran upstream. I reasoned Beau was probably still thirsty, even after the fairly large meal. Now that he had decided he wasn't going to be a vegetarian, he might be anxious to try something like that delectable scent he had caught on the wind earlier, and the park would afford him a lot of potential prey. Many of the hiking trails in the conservation area were remote, and so he would have no trouble picking one or two backpackers off without being seen.

I felt myself recoil at the thought. I remembered how Beau had looked that day when he had seen the newspaper that listed the names of the dead in Seattle, when Victor's newborn army had been picking off prey at leisure. His eyes had been wide and horrified, face pale. It was just so hard to imagine Beau living like a normal member of our kind—I just couldn't seem to reconcile it with the Beau I knew.

However, even as I thought it, Beau's own words returned to me. About how I had constructed a fantasy version of him in my mind. I wondered if that was what I was continuing to do now, making him into what I wanted him to be—a boy who was always unfailingly kind and compassionate, who shared our ideals, who always sacrificed his own comfort for the sake of others. Rather than seeing him for the person that he was.

If that was so, I couldn't blame Beau for it. He hadn't duped me—rather, I had duped myself. If I had made him feel that he had to be a certain way in order for me to love him, then I only had myself to blame. And if he did feed like one of our kind, I couldn't despise or judge him for that. It was the most natural way for our kind to live—if people died for this, then I was the one responsible. I had changed him, created him. As he had said, if I had not interfered in his life, he would have gone on living like normal. He would have buried his innate drive for thrills that he had inherited from his mother, and lived responsibly. If I had lost everything I had ever dreamed of, all I had ever hoped for, then it was no more than I deserved.

I followed the river down deep into the conservation area, but the way became increasingly slow going, as I had to keep to the shadows of the trees to avoid being seen by passing hikers and outdoor enthusiasts. I listened carefully, both with my eyes and my mind, for people searching for a missing member of their group. Someone who had lagged behind on the trail to get a photograph of a scenic view, or needed a short rest, who had never caught up to them, or perhaps an organized search party for someone who had disappeared from a campground in the night. But there was nothing.

It was early evening when my phone buzzed in my pocket yet again. I didn't bother to check the ID as I answered.

"Archie," I said. I hadn't spoken a word all day, and I was surprised by how dead my voice sounded.

"Good guess," he said, though there wasn't much real humor in his tone. "I'm getting close. I know it will take you a little while to get back from where you are, so you might want to think about starting back now. Unless you want me to come find you down there. Though I'm letting you know now, I'm not really hot on the idea of hunting through the woods to find you, and then having this conversation out in the wilderness under the fir trees. A lodge with a couch sounds nice right now."

Of course, Archie was no more or less comfortable standing out in the woods than he would be sitting on a plush leather couch, but I could tell he was a bit peeved by my earlier reception, and from the fact I was refusing to tell him anything about what had happened. Archie had never been good at reigning in his curiosity on the smallest things, so something as major and catastrophic as this had to be digging at least an inch below his skin.

I closed the phone, then crouched amid the rocks near the mouth of the canyon, gazing down at the rushing rapids of the Gunnison River below. I was deep in the canyon now, and while I hadn't seen any rafters yet, I had seen several hikers, all likely with backcountry permits. Even though here there was no danger of sunlight penetrating deep enough to reveal what I was, I kept out of sight. The fact I was without any provisions or proper gear would alone be enough to raise suspicions.

I shot one last glance at the sheer rock face behind me. I saw, just up on the edge, a cluster of gilia flowers growing out of the rock. The tiny white flowers swayed slightly in the wind above, though they clung so tightly that they were in no danger of coming off. They were used to the hard environment.

I swallowed hard, choking back the silent sob that rose in my throat. I had wanted to show Beau those flowers.

At last, I shook my head, and I turned to head back up through the forest.

Archie had apparently timed his call to exact precision, because we both reached the lodge at almost exactly the same time. I had only just opened the front door as Archie came springing up through the woods, his light jacket clean and completely free of debris, though likely he had just run about a thousand miles through forest and back country—from his tone on the phone, I had known he wouldn't have had the patience to take a plane.

As he emerged from the forest, he slowed to a walk, going almost at a human pace. His mouth was set in a firm line, and his eyes were fastened on me.

A wave of unexpected exhaustion stole through me—though our bodies couldn't feel physical weariness, my mind felt abruptly heavy. Having a purpose, a goal, had temporarily staved off the worst of the torment, the paralyzing fear I would never see him again, but now the dull, colorless lethargy was settling over me again, and I felt that I might sit down in the corner of this cabin, and, like the Volturi, never move until my skin turned brittle, my eyes white as milk.

Instead of going to Archie and apologizing for not explaining, and promising I would tell him everything now, I simply turned back to the door. Opening it, I went on in.

I sat myself down on the couch in front of the blank television, waiting for Archie to come. Beau had offered that we could do a movie night, just as we had that night we were alone before the battle with Victor. Trying to make things easier on me, after Archie's supposed vision of me hurting him on our honeymoon—or so it had seemed to me at the time. Or was that just another motivation I was imposing on him, based on an erroneous view of how he thought? Perhaps he was just being pragmatic—after all, it was in his best interests if I didn't accidentally kill him our first night of married life, too. That would be understandable.

I leaned my head against the back of the couch, tilting my gaze far upward, and sighed.

"Are you going to explain all this, or are you going to torture me some more?"

My eyes had closed, and now I let them slowly open. I gazed at the ceiling for a moment, before I finally let my head fall forward, and my eyes dropped to the face of my brother, sitting beside me. I gazed back at him blankly for a minute.

_Torture, huh?_ he thought. _Why am I not surprised. You always were a bit of a sadist._

I sighed and looked away, my gaze going back to the blank television. I should have taken Beau up on that offer of a movie night when I had the chance. I should have ignored Sulpicia. Her threats of sending her people after us were probably a bluff. Surely she didn't have the resources to spend on something like this, in light of the conflict in Europe that Archie had caught glimpses of before her future had disappeared.

"Sorry," I mumbled at last. "I guess I...just don't know where to begin."

_How about the beginning?_

His mental tone normally would have made me laugh and roll my eyes. However, I couldn't make my throat form the necessary sound. I wasn't sure I would ever laugh again. I let my eyes slide closed once more.

"Did Beau run off with Julie Black?" he asked. "Is that what happened? I mean, I can't really picture it, but considering I figure there's a pretty limited number of scenarios that would involve you letting Beau run off into the woods with coyotes and mountain lions and who know what else without you there—well, that's the first one that comes to mind."

I let out another silent sigh. "No," I said quietly at last. "No, it's not that. Sulpicia...gave me a call."

Archie didn't respond immediately. "And?" he said at last, his voice one of forced calm.

"And she told me our deadline was past, and Beau had to change now. Or else."

"And you sent Beau off on his own to avoid the tracker," he supplied. He was staring at me with slightly wide eyes, his tone a mix of dark amusement and horrified disbelief. "Edy—see reason, why don't you. I know you don't want him to have to be like us, and you don't want him to change because he's being forced to, but can't you see he's already made his choice? What are you going to do if he gets eaten by a wild animal? You can't just leave him on his own—unless—"

He frowned, thoughtful. "You called Julie Black to go with him. Sulpicia's trackers have never seen her, so they might not be able to find her. Strange I wouldn't have encountered her scent on the way up here, but I guess if you met up far enough away..."

He trailed off as he looked at me and saw I was already shaking my head.

"No," I whispered. And suddenly, the shame of what I had done crashed down on me like an avalanche. All the things Archie was saying—those were what he had expected of me, and my mania to keep Beau human. I should have thought of them myself, should have tried them. Instead...instead. I had given in. I had hidden behind the excuse that I should let Beau have a choice, and I had gone through with it—stolen away his humanity so I could keep him forever. How could I have not foreseen that this was precisely the outcome that I had earned?

I forced myself to continue, my voice barely above a whisper, "No, I—I did it. I changed him. I asked him if that's what he wanted—though I didn't tell him about Sulpicia, as she forbade it, and I didn't want that to factor into his decision—and then I bit him. And he changed."

Archie stared at me blankly, even as his thoughts spun like a raging storm. First came a cascade of disbelief—surely if Beau was changing into a vampire, he would have seen that, whether he was trying to give us our privacy or not. But as he studied my face more closely, it began to dawn on him that I was serious—I had really done it.

He drew in a deep breath, then slowly let it out again. "Well," he said at last bracingly, "then I guess it's done. The ties are all severed. There's no going back." He paused. "So where is he now?"

My eyes dropped. This was the part I didn't want to tell him—that I didn't want anyone to know. I didn't mind the shame of being jilted and abandoned—I would have welcomed the humiliation, the degradation after all my scheming, my underhanded efforts to achieve happiness for myself no matter the cost. But I couldn't stand the thought of anyone judging Beau for this—for being angry with him on my behalf. The mere thought of anyone thinking ill of Beau for any of this made my blood boil. _I_ was to blame. I had brought this on myself, and I had taken Beau's old life away from him in my vile pursuit of my own self-serving desires.

But I knew I had to tell Archie, at least part of the truth.

"Beau..." I said slowly, haltingly. "When the change was complete, he...he didn't seem the same. Or perhaps I simply never truly understood what he really needed. He...left."

Archie stared at me for full second, stunned. "You...let him go?" he said at last. "Off on his own? Just like that?"

I didn't meet his gaze. "If he...wanted to go...I didn't have the right to stop him," I said in a low voice.

Archie continued to stare at me. "What did he say exactly?" he pressed.

I shook my head. I didn't know how to explain it without Archie automatically characterizing it in a bad light—I knew even before I said anything that he, along with everyone else in my family, would not understand. Understand that this was what I deserved, and Beau was not in the wrong.

"I think he just...realized some things he never understood about himself before," I said, still talking in a slow, quiet voice. "He was so determined to live our way—but...actually experiencing it...he realized just how hard it was. And he didn't really think he could exist like that."

Archie was regarding me with eyes slightly wide now, his eyebrows knitted in growing confusion.

I went on quickly, "I felt the same for a time, you remember. I left Carine to live the way our kind normally lives. And you couldn't keep up the vegetarian lifestyle at first, as much as you wanted to. He might experience the life for awhile, then...then come back." My voice caught a little on the last word. Even as I said it, I didn't really believe it.

Archie was shaking his head. "That's impossible," he muttered.

"You know how fast resolves can change," I said quietly. "How fast one set future can fork into another."

But Archie was still shaking his head. "Impossible," he said again, almost to himself. "He wouldn't leave. That was never a possibility. I never saw that as a future."

"Sometimes things change," I murmured hollowly. "Sometimes you know you don't see everything."

Archie was staring at nothing. He looked stunned. "And so...that's what he said? He just couldn't handle living like us?"

I nodded once, just a very slight dip of the head.

"And that's all he said?"

I hesitated. My eyes didn't quite meet his.

"Yeah," he said, looking at me with hard, probing eyes. "I know, there's something else. No way you'd have let him strike off on his own like that, no matter what he was planning on eating—as a newborn, he could go berserk, or run into another coven that might decide they don't like some newbie encroaching on their territory. I know you wouldn't have just let him go, unless there was something else. What else did he say, Edy?"

I hesitated. I didn't want to say it. I wouldn't.

_I don't love you. I don't want you—not anymore. If you had never looked at me... maybe it wouldn't have turned out like this._

My fault. My doing. I would never tell Archie, or any of the others, not for the rest of my existence, unless I could be sure I could make them see that I had brought this on myself. And I knew I couldn't.

Finally, Archie sighed.

"Fine," he said. He stared straight ahead at the television, forehead tensing in a dark frown. "This doesn't make any sense," he muttered to himself. "I saw all his futures as one of us—I never saw him giving in. I never saw him anywhere but as a part of our family. He's a good guy, he's never been the type to just..."

He trailed off as a thought occurred to him.

I heard the thought at the same time he did, and it hit me like a thunderclap.

He stared at me with wide eyes. "Edythe," he whispered. "This is too much of a coincidence. Sulpicia calls you, to tell you to change Beau immediately—and then he takes off on you? Telling you he's already giving up the vegetarian lifestyle?"

I stared straight at the blank television, seeing nothing but all the pieces suddenly coming together, as the picture I ought to have seen from the beginning came sharply into focus.

"And now his future's disappeared, same as Sulpicia's," he said in a low, shocked voice. "Edythe," he whispered. "You don't think Sulpicia—"

I didn't answer. I just kept staring straight ahead, even as the logic of the theory raced ahead, growing slowly into a certainty. What a fool I was. It was so obvious—

From the very first moment that Beau had stepped into the Volturi chamber and seen Sulpicia face-to-face, and she had seen how he had been able to resist so many gifts, she had been interested in his potential power. More so than mine, or even Archie's. I had avoided telling the others and especially Beau as much, because I hadn't wanted Beau to feel any more threatened by Sulpicia's insistence that he change directly after graduation, or have any more fodder for his determination to change as soon as possible. But perhaps whatever this battle going on that the Volturi was struggling with, she wanted Beau's power—or what she hoped his power would be, once he was changed. It was so obvious—yet I had been so focused on what I imagined Beau must be feeling in his new life the possibility had never even crossed my mind.

"Sulpicia could have talked to you to get you to change him, then talked to him to get him to say those things to leave you," Archie said, staring at me, still with the same stunned expression.

I unfroze, coming out of the horror of my thoughts, and slowly shook my head. "But why would Beau listen to her?" I whispered. "Why would he...was he that afraid I would be in danger from Sulpicia?"

Archie frowned. "Maybe. Or..."

He hesitated, not wanting to say what he was thinking. But of course, I saw it anyway.

"Julie Black," I whispered.

"It would explain why both Beau and Sulpicia's futures have gone dark," Archie said. "If she was with them. It would be a pretty big incentive she could hold over his head. That might even explain why I wouldn't have seen him changing, or his decision to leave—if it was all tied up in Julie Black."

Archie paused. "But, hasn't she been running around as a wolf? So if Sulpicia caught her, the other wolves would have heard her thoughts. They'd know immediately what happened."

I shook my head. "She changed back," I said, very quietly. "The night before our wedding. The wolves didn't know where she was. They were worried—Beau was worried."

Archie sucked in a sharp breath, then slowly let it out again.

My entire body was rigid with tension. Julie Black in Sulpicia's clutches—Sulpicia could make Beau do whatever she wanted. If he didn't turn out to have the specific powers she was looking for, she would probably force him to be a footsoldier in the Volturi's lower army—as a newborn, he would be immensely strong in a fight against this enemy, whoever they were. And in all likelihood, he would also be killed quickly.

My fingers curled slowly into a fist.

"What do we do?" I breathed. I wasn't sure if I was asking Archie, or myself.

I listened to Archie's thoughts as they worked. Flitting through possible courses of action, reading the future as far as each course would allow. But of course, if Julie Black was involved, there was no telling how reliable they were. At last, he sighed.

"There's not much choice," he said. "I think right now the only thing for it is to head back to Forks. We'll talk to Carine and the others and try to decide what to do next."

I didn't reply. I didn't care for the idea—it would take us through the night and half the day to get back, and it was here in this forest I'd last seen Beau. I wanted to stay here, comb the area. Leaving now felt like abandoning Beau, and every minute I didn't spend searching felt like a waste, a chance for Sulpicia to get that much further away.

As though Archie could read my mind, he said, "Edy, if Sulpicia is involved, you can bet she'll have already gotten Beau far away from here, and she'll have made sure we can't track him. There's no point hanging around here. If we're going to have any hope of finding him, we're going to need a plan, and some help."

I hesitated a moment longer, then reluctantly nodded. I knew he was right.

"Come on," he said. "If we hurry, we might make it by tomorrow morning. I'll call Carine on the way."

I didn't reply, only got swiftly to my feet. I was eager to be off, to be doing something—so I wouldn't have time to dwell on the danger Beau was in, and the fact I had let it happen.

"Don't blame yourself," Archie said after a moment, studying my expression. "If you'd realized what was going on and tried to stop him, Sulpicia might have killed you both. Or Julie Black. There was nothing you could have done. Let's just concentrate on figuring out what to do next."

I nodded, but I wasn't really convinced. I had let this happen. It was my fault. But I would fix it if it was the last thing I did.

As we left the cabin, sprinting off into the dark woods, my eyes flickered to Archie as he talked rapidly into his cell phone—not giving too many details just yet, but enough Carine knew we were in the middle of another crisis.

I was grateful he was here. He was right, we had to think calmly and rationally. There was no time to be running around in a panic.

I felt the cool band of the gold ring around my finger, but it was the matching one I drew from my pocket that I clenched tightly in my hand.

_Don't worry, Beau. We're coming for you. And Julie Black, too. Just hang on._

The light of a waxing crescent moon glittered overhead, invisible through the thick branches of the forest.

* * *

A/N: Back when I was working on getting up Midnight Sun, quite a few people asked me if I'd be doing Edythe's perspective again. (If I seemed vague at the time, now you know why.) Though I think several of you managed to be quite prescient anyway.

The original idea, strangely enough, came from the Divergent series. The first two books are told entirely from the main character Tris's point of view, and then the author came out with a third side book of short stories told from the guy's perspective filling in some of his backstory. This turned out to be a kind of setup for the final book of the main trilogy, which switches off between them. Similarly, from here on out, we'll be alternating between points of view almost every chapter.

Thanks so much for reading, it's definitely crazy to be getting this far after all this time. Surprised? Horrified? If you have a moment, let me know what you thought, and as always, hope to see you next time!

Posted 2/3/20


	12. Hope

A/N: Hey hey, back yet again. Hope you're all having a good year so far, though I can't believe how fast it's been going.

A bit of a plot-focused chapter this time. I tried reworking it a few times to make it a bit cleaner and read faster, but admittedly these often aren't my favorite types of chapters in actual books either. (But, I still had fun working on it, and hopefully it will fill in a few things.)

Thanks for all your thoughts and comments last chapter, and hope to see you at the end! :J

* * *

Chapter 11: Hope

**Beau**

I still hadn't gotten used to the fact I didn't have a heart beat. My chest felt too cold and still—especially since right now I had a feeling if I still had it, it would be pounding.

I stole silently across the desert expanse, keeping low to the stubby sagebrush that dotted the landscape and kicking up puffs of red sand as I went. I had kept to the forest as much as possible the entire journey, forced to choose discretion over speed in the light of day. I tried to keep to a path that kept me away from populated areas—which, in southern Wyoming, hadn't been hard for the most part—but now that twilight was falling, I cut through the shortest path to the rendezvous point Sulpicia had given me.

There was still some light in the sky, so I kept my jacket hood over my head, trying to show as little skin openly as possible, though both my nose and sharp eyes told me there wasn't anyone around for miles. Most of the people who would be out here were here for oil drilling, and the whiff of sulfur on the wind told me the areas to avoid.

I was nearing the meeting place now—I could see the barest edge of a forest up ahead, and as the wind shifted, I caught the scents of the vampires lurking there, just inside the treeline. Two, I thought, but of course, they were both unfamiliar to my new vampire senses, and I couldn't tell if one of them was Sulpicia. I didn't think so—because as I inhaled deeply, I didn't pick up anything strange that might have been the scent of a werewolf, and I was sure wherever Sulpicia was, Jules would be with her.

As I neared the forest, I slowed to a brisk walk, more cautious now. Of course there was no point trying to conceal my approach—they had probably seen me from miles off, and they already knew I was coming anyway. This was why I was here—to let myself into their clutches. No matter how my vampire instincts might protest.

As soon as I was beyond the shadow of the trees, I stopped, and my eyes scanned the area.

Two figures stepped out from behind a broad cedar, their long dark cloaks swirling around them like smoke. Although they both wore their hoods up, I could see their features clearly. I realized immediately that I knew them both—Sulpicia's two henchman, who had escorted Edythe and I into the heart of the Volturi's lair in Volterra, and had again appeared when they had come down to investigate the situation with Victor. Tacita and Cato.

Tacita's black hair was cut at the same severe angle as before, and she wore the same cold expression.

"We will escort you to Lady Sulpicia," she said shortly, without preamble.

With no further explanation, she turned and took off into the forest, her long cloak flowing out behind her as she ran. After a second, I took off after her, and Cato wordlessly came up behind me, taking up the rear. Making sure I wouldn't try to escape.

It was a short run. We took a straight path through the trees, until the smell of metal and gasoline touched my nostrils, at which point Tacita abruptly veered off, and it wasn't long before we halted before a deserted dirt road. A long black car was parked along the shoulder.

I felt a shiver of nerves—even if the road was out in the middle of nowhere, I didn't like feeling so near to civilization. Several times as I ran up through northern Colorado and through the desert of southern Wyoming, I had once again caught the scent of human on the wind. Though it had still burned my throat like a tongue of fire, I had been able to resist and keep going, perhaps because I wasn't in the mindset of a hunt. However, I still didn't like taking chances that way—I wanted to keep myself as far from any human as I could.

I couldn't smell anything from inside the car—its interior was completely closed up from the outside, including the air vents, and the windows were tinted black, so I couldn't see inside. However, I knew it wasn't humans in there—except perhaps one.

"Get in," said Tacita, coming to stand behind me.

I froze where I was, several feet back. Was Jules in that car? And if she was, being in such close quarters, would I be able to stop myself from attacking her?

"Get in," Tacita ordered again, and she took me roughly by the shoulder, pushing me forward.

I watched as Cato swiftly turned and went up to the driver's side door, in a moment disappearing inside. Then, reluctantly, I stepped forward. Tacita opened the door for me and, gritting my teeth and holding my breath, I climbed on in.

The interior was as luxurious as it appeared from the outside. The space between the fine leather front and back seats was generous, with a cooler set into one side in the broad open space between front and back seats, and because from the outside it vaguely resembled the car Edythe had gotten for me, I figured it must be a Mercedes, possibly with the tinted windows bullet or even missile-proof. It looked like the kind of car that might have been used by the drug cartel.

This took me about an eighteenth of a second to take in, before my eyes went to the occupants.

Cato was up in the driver's seat, of course, and there was another vampire sitting in the passenger's seat. A boy. I thought there was something about him that looked familiar—something from my dim human memories—but from this angle I couldn't tell. Sulpicia was, as I'd known she would be, seated at the very back, back perfectly straight and regal.

She was just as I remembered from our brief interaction in Volterra—her dark hair cascading in curtains around a face of oddly delicate, papery skin, crimson eyes misted over, her lips ever turned up in a soft, gentle smile. A small boy sat on the floor just in front of her, small hands clinging to the folds of her midnight black cloak, but as he seemed to curl in on himself as though trying to make himself invisible, the force of Sulpicia's presence overshadowed his, and it was impossible to pay him much mind.

However—it was the lanky figure laying motionless across the empty car floor in front of them that finally drew my eyes. Her rich russet skin contrasted sharply with that of everyone else in the vehicle, though at the moment it was chalky, almost gray. Her eyes were closed, and though I could make out no obvious injury, she didn't look well. I supposed even if they had been hurting her, it wouldn't show, as her natural healing would take care of it. Her breathing was shallow, her splayed limbs limp.

I could hear the steady beat of a heart, the rush of hot liquid through veins, and I felt venom fill my mouth. With a great difficulty, I wrenched my gaze away.

"Beau," said Sulpicia, and her voice was so warm and gracious she might have been welcoming an old friend. "I am so glad you are here. Come, sit down." She gestured generously to the seat directly beside her.

Warily, I did as she said. Tacita came in behind me, sitting on the far side with me separating her from Sulpicia. She was scowling fiercely, and not looking at all happy at the arrangements, but this must have been the way Sulpicia wanted it because she didn't try to protest.

The engine purred to life and soon we had set off down the road. I didn't speak, just sat rigidly in my seat, staring straight ahead. I didn't breathe, and refused to look down at the prone figure on the car floor in front of my feet. I could still hear her moist heartbeat, the rush of her blood through her veins. However, at the moment I was in complete control—I just had to make sure it stayed that way.

"It will help if you breathe," Sulpicia suggested pleasantly. "She may sound edible, but the smell—well, you may be a newborn, but I doubt even you will find one of her kind very appetizing."

I didn't answer. To answer, I would have to breathe in. I was silently appalled. Did she think this was a game? That I would be fine just experimenting with Jules's life?

"It will be difficult to carry on a conversation if you aren't breathing," Sulpicia added gently.

When I still didn't reply, she said, "I assure you, your friend will be in no danger from you. Her wellbeing is quite as important to us as it is to you, I would not put her at risk under any circumstances. But if it makes you feel better, Tacita will be on standby to take action, if necessary. I promise, even in close quarters, Tacita would have no trouble subduing you."

Her voice was still polite, but I read the threat behind them. Tacita would have no trouble subduing me if I stepped out of line no matter what the context.

"And," Sulpicia continued, "as added protection, we also have Brenden here. He could protect her from you in an instant, isn't that right, Brenden?"

"Yes, my lady," mumbled the vampire from the front passenger's seat.

My eyes shot upward and I stared. Brenden. I recognized that name. He had been that newborn in the clearing, the one Jonathan had almost killed, but had been saved because he possessed some ability Tacita thought might be useful. Now he was here, as one of Sulpicia's personal guard? He'd sure moved up in the ranks fast.

I turned my eyes away from him.

"I promise, there's no danger," Sulpicia said again, and though her voice was as gentle and polite as ever, I thought it sounded like her patience might already be wearing thin.

I carefully braced myself, concentrating, strengthening my resolve. Then I took a slow, shallow breath through my mouth.

Although I couldn't really smell anything, I could taste the air and, as Sulpicia had promised, I thought I tasted something unpleasant. Not appetizing, anyway.

It was enough that I chanced taking a quick breath through my nose. As Edythe had once told me, it was indeed uncomfortable being without a sense of smell.

Something seemed to sear up my nostrils like a tongue of flames—but nothing like the mouthwatering fragrance of human blood. Instead, the reek was hot, almost painful—there was nothing in my human life to compare it to, nothing that could begin to describe it. It was worse than an any animal I had ever smelled, worse than a festering corpse. I had to fight not to gag.

The others were watching me. The boy sitting at Sulpicia's feet, though still clinging to her cloak, had turned his head, and Brenden had turned around in his seat to stare at me with his bright crimson eyes. Even Tacita, though her head hadn't turned, was watching me out of the corner of her dark burgundy eyes. Sulpicia was smiling slightly.

I knew they were all waiting for some kind of reaction. I kept my teeth clenched together and the most they might have noticed was a slight tensing of my shoulders before I relaxed again. I breathed again, more slowly this time, and deeply.

I realized that I loved the horrid, absolutely repellent stench radiating from the form lying on the floor in front of us. Sulpicia was right, there was absolutely nothing even remotely appealing about the smell of that blood. And that would protect her. Even in the midst of a car full of vampires, she was safe—at least from someone accidentally losing control.

I breathed again deeply, savoring the burning, foul odor.

"Good," said Sulpicia, smiling. "You see, there is nothing to be afraid of."

I didn't answer, only gazed down at Jules, continuing to breathe.

"Now," said Sulpicia. "I suppose you must have many questions. Why you are here. Why this blackmail has been necessary—I will tell you."

I blinked. As a prisoner, I had been so little expecting an explanation of any kind it had been the furthest thing from my mind.

I forced the surprise from my expression, and I lifted my eyes to gaze back at her without emotion, unblinking.

Sulpicia reached out a hand toward me, as though to shake. When I didn't respond in kind, her hand reached forward, until her fingers lingered over where my clenched fist rested on my knee. Her delicate fingers were long and slender, each nail like the work of a manicure specialist.

"May I?" she asked.

I didn't answer, and she took that as an affirmative. Her hand moved down the final few inches and she pressed two fingers to the back of my hand. Like Edythe, her skin was no longer cold against mine, but the same temperature. However, even so, at her touch I felt an involuntary shudder down my spine.

I remembered what Edythe had said, about hoping to hear my mind after I changed. I knew she couldn't, but what about Sulpicia? Were all my thoughts pouring into her?

Several seconds passed. I noticed the atmosphere in the car had suddenly grown tense. Even Cato, who was not looking at me, was, I thought, gripping the steering wheel harder than necessary.

At last Sulpicia opened her eyes and withdrew her hand. "Still nothing," she pronounced. Her smile was wide, and everyone in the car seemed to relax. She said, "It seems that whatever mysterious power protects you did not develop any holes upon your transformation."

Once again, I didn't reply, but I was relieved. I didn't want Sulpicia to see all my thoughts. Especially those memories of what she had made me say to Edythe, which still burned in my mouth and lungs like acid.

As I stared back into her gently smiling face, I felt a sudden bitter wave of anger—I wondered if she found all this funny, toying with our lives like it was some kind of game.

Tacita must have sensed my hostility, because I felt her tense beside me.

I forced myself to relax. Getting in a fight with Tacita in here wasn't going to help Jules, or anyone else. My eyes dropped.

"Thank you for coming," Sulpicia said, just as she had at the beginning. "Perhaps it may not seem like it, but I am sorry all this was necessary. You see, Beau... we, the Volturi, and even the worlds of humans and vampires, need your help."

I stared straight ahead, out the windshield between the two front seats. Wondering what kind of elaborate story Sulpicia was going to try to weave for me to keep me doing what she wanted.

I'd had quite a bit of time to think on the run over. And, as tempting as it was to believe Sulpicia might be doing all this for her own amusement to alleviate centuries of boredom, I didn't really believe that. My impression of Sulpicia was that she was ruled by pragmatism, and she had to have a reason for going to these lengths, and the only thing I could think of was that maybe she was hoping to get some hold over Edythe and Archie. Was she planning to use me to get them to join her? Jules had been the leverage to get to me, now was I going to be the leverage to get to them?

"I am sure," Sulpicia continued, "that Edythe must have told you something of the events approximately sixty-three years ago."

It took me a second to slog through my human memories, but then I remembered. A conversation in the depths of the Volturi lair, as the Volturi guard feasted on the blood of humans.

I had to suppress another shudder, and I didn't reply.

"There was an uprising," Sulpicia said, "led by a vampire by the name of Josef von Weinrich. As a human, Weinrich held a high-ranking position in the Ministry of Propaganda in Germany during the rise of the Nazi regime, so his powerful and unique ability was perhaps fitting. Simply by making eye contact with another vampire, he was able to turn them, at least temporarily, into his mindless puppet—you might call it a form of mind control. His ambition knew no restraint, and he hoped he might use his power to destroy us, the Volturi, and take our place. With such a power, he might have succeeded, if not for the sacrifice of my brave little Mele."

Sulpicia was quiet for a long moment, her milky eyes distant.

I considered that. While Edythe had told me all that had taken place during World War II, I hadn't really thought of the events of the two worlds as actually connected. But the rebel leader's skills and aim for domination over the world had originated with his human life—it was a disorienting, unsettling thought.

At last, I spoke for the first time. "And what does that have to do with now?"

Sulpicia shifted her shoulders very slightly, in what might have passed for a shrug. "That rebellion has not been the only one. Over the centuries, many have risen to oppose us—I sometimes think if I were less merciful, if an encounter with us almost always meant death, whether the party was guilty or not, then perhaps there would be fewer inclined to get ideas of grandeur. But, I suppose speculating on such things has little bearing now."

She continued, "In any case, Josef von Weinrich was stopped back then. However, now a new threat has risen. Dante De Luca Salvatore—as you might guess, an Italian, as we are. He possesses a dangerous ability of his own, and has recently garnered many followers, collecting a few key allies with abilities that, brought together, represent a threat nearly as great as Weinrich over sixty years ago. We have been forced to abandon our stronghold in Volterra and flee, lest they come and annihilate us."

Sulpicia paused again, perhaps waiting for me to ask what power Dante De Luca Salvatore possessed. But the truth was, after everything Sulpicia had done to us, I realized I wasn't really sure I cared.

At last, Sulpicia went on, answering the question I didn't ask. "As it happens, Salvatore has the unpleasant power to look at someone, human or vampire, and see that individual's greatest weakness. That power has served him in ways you couldn't begin to guess, and his force has grown quickly. However, it's the two recruits that he's recently acquired that has turned him from an annoyance into what he is now. Still, I believe there may still be a chance—so long as we are able to assemble all the proper pieces on our side correctly."

She paused, and eyed me thoughtfully for a moment. "Tell me, Beau," she said suddenly. "As far as vampire abilities go, have you ever heard the term _shield_?"

I hesitated, then slowly shook my head once.

"I suppose no one has ever told you the formal classifications of extra talents associated with our kind." A hint of an ironic smile played at the corner of her lips. "Possibly because we, the Volturi, were the ones who created those classifications."

I was quiet, and finally my eyes traveled unwillingly to her face. This time, I couldn't entirely feign indifference—this was one subject I would have been interested in from a long time ago, if I had only known it existed. My freakish brain, on the wrong radio frequency.

"Of course," Sulpicia said, "there are so many abilities, many of them entirely unique. But we've found most fit into a few broad categories."

She smoothed out a crease in her cloak, glassy gaze staring straight ahead.

"First," she began, "the most common gift is tracking. The power to locate something that the user seeks, whether it be other vampires, prey, or even, in some rare cases, places or objects. The way the abilities work and how potent they are vary, but they all amount to essentially the same effect.

"Second, of course, are the offensive gifts—powers that allow incapacitation of an enemy in some way. For instance, the power to cause an enemy so much pain that he cannot move."

It was obvious who Sulpicia was talking about, and I didn't see a point in letting her beat around the bush. "Jonathan," I muttered.

Sulpicia continued to smile, but a dark look flickered in her misty eyes. "Yes," she said softly. "Like Jonathan. His is among the most intense I have ever seen. We would also consider his sister Alexa's power a type of offensive skill, too. You see, she can take away the senses of another vampire—not just one, but many at once. She makes it so they cannot see, hear, or feel—thereby rendering them absolutely helpless. She and Jonathan together have always been a lethal combination. They, together, can make it possible to destroy entire armies."

Memories of Jonathan flickered across my mind. Mostly one image stuck out in my mind—Edythe, writhing on a stone floor. My hands slowly closed, clenching hard into fists at my side.

Sulpicia went on. "Then there are vampires with gifts for gathering information—this class consists of mind-readers mainly. My own gift is the obvious example. Your Edythe is another—hers is particularly powerful, because it works over such a broad area, without the need for physical contact. Others possess mind-reading that is more specific—for instance, many believe Cato here to be a tracker, but in fact, his power is a form of mind-reading—he can see the locations of his chosen targets over vast distances through their own eyes. And of course, Salvatore is a mind reader of a kind, able to see the weaknesses of friends and foes alike. I would also probably classify the ability of Archie, of your coven, as one of information, though a rare outward gift of sight rather than one of the mind."

I didn't reply, only sat where I was.

"Of course," she continued, "there are also abilities like those of the leader of the last rebellion, who possess some power that allows them to, rather than gather information, or simply incapacitate an enemy, actively shape some part of the world around them. Josef was able to control other vampires. Jessamine, of your coven, has the power to influence physical emotion. Chariton—or so that was his original name—a former member of the Volturi guard, could influence emotional ties between people, breaking feelings of loyalty, or forging them."

I watched Sulpicia as I took this all in. It wasn't that hard to follow, at least not for my new quick vampire mind. But maybe that was why I was starting to get impatient for her to get to the point.

Sulpicia sighed slightly, leaning back in her seat, and as though sensing my feelings, said at last, "The fifth and final class of the major abilities are, of course, the shields. Shields are the antithesis to the offensive class, the defenders. Take Renatus—" She gestured to the boy sitting at her feet— "and Brenden here. Brenden, while his handle on his skill is still somewhat unstable for now, can form physical shields to either block an opponent's attack, or trap his opponent. Renatus, on the other hand, has a power a little more subtle—if he chooses, he can turn away anyone who would come near him or those around him by muddying their sense of direction. And there are other types of shields besides."

I considered that for a long moment. "So," I said at last, "you're saying there are five categories of gifts. And all the gifts you know of fall into one of those categories."

Sulpicia smiled like a teacher giving a difficult lesson to her brightest student. "Yes—although, not entirely. These categories are, of course, entirely arbitrary in some ways, and some gifts fail to fit very neatly into any of the categories, while some overlap and could be placed in more than one. Renatus's power, for example, is clearly a shield in terms of what it does, but because the power is actually a result of tampering with the mind, it might also fall within the fourth category. And, as of a little over half a century ago, I'm inclined to believe there to be a sixth category."

She knew she had my attention now, and I watched her with resentful interest.

"Back when Josef von Weinrich was at the height of his powers, I learned of a vampire with a very unique gift—and that was to utterly neutralize the effects of _other_ vampire abilities, at least certain kinds. Riko Shimizu—that was her name—could break artificial links induced by powers that had an effect on the mind. In other words, if I could have convinced her to join our guard, she might have single-handedly stopped Von Weinrich."

Sulpicia's smile was rueful. "Unfortunately for us, it turned out Riko Shimizu's mate had been executed for a crime, for participating in the brutal territory wars that were going on in Japan back in the late seventeenth century. Consequently, she had been looking for an opportunity to have her vengeance on me. When I tried to find her, she fled from me, and in an act of vengeance sided with Josef von Weinrich against me. After we defeated him, and destroyed his armies, she escaped. I did not know where she was—not until recently."

I heard the foreboding in her tone, and I stared straight ahead. When she didn't immediately continue, I finally muttered, "What do you mean?"

Sulpicia sighed slightly, and though her mouth was still smiling, her eyes were sad and tired. "Riko Shimizu has found another rebellion to assist, I'm afraid. Her new ally used his power to see where we were weakest, and Riko used her gift to break the ties of two key members of our organization—Jonathan and Alexa. Now they have joined the enemy, and should they find us, we would be helpless before their powers."

Until now, I'd had no trouble keeping up. However, perhaps it was because my mind was working faster than it ever had before that I found myself voicing a question my old slow, human brain probably wouldn't have even thought to ask.

"But if she could only break artificial links..."

Sulpicia already knew where I was going and answered the question before I finished. "Indeed, Jonathan and Alexa's feelings of loyalty were not natural, but created by Chariton long ago. While the rest of the guard's commitment to our cause is genuine, I knew the possibility of Jonathan and Alexa leaving was too dangerous to leave to their own childlike, fickle loyalties—Chariton's power is extraordinarily long lasting, and so even though he left us approximately four hundred years ago, because of the long period of exposure the two had to his power over the centuries we were all together, they were still very much under his influence."

"Chariton left?" I said. My voice was quiet with suspicion—I wondered if _left _was really a euphemism for something else.

Sulpicia must have read my expression because the corners of her lips flickered in another smile. "Yes, he left. He tired of the strict, disciplined life we led, and he eventually asked if he and his mate might leave the Volturi, and seek a new life elsewhere."

"And you just let him go?" I said, disbelieving.

Sulpicia really did smile then. "I did. Of course, I asked him if he would leave his gift behind—after all, such a gift was a powerful tool for ensuring peace, and we the Volturi were in a position to utilize it in a way that he, as a roaming individual living for his own pursuits, could not. Chariton agreed—primarily because he realized that he would continue to be called back into service in times of crisis so long as he possessed a skill I found useful, and knew the only way to be truly free of the Volturi, and me, was to give it up."

Sulpicia's eyes glittered with quiet amusement. "And so, Mele took his gift, and gave it to someone else. From what I understand, he is going by the name Chester now, and is living quite happily. He occasionally sends me friendly greetings. The last I heard, he and his mate were traveling in South America."

"Who was it?" I asked in a low voice, still staring at the seat. "Who got the power?" My eyes flickered around the car, to the other guards. As far as I knew, they all already had abilities—even Tacita, who seemed to be some kind of fighting specialist, had some kind of close-range tracking ability, if I was remembering what Edythe had told me correctly. Perhaps Sulpicia had never said that a vampire couldn't possess two abilities, but I felt like it was implied, or else Sulpicia would surely possess more than her former mate's ability for herself.

Sulpicia shook her head. "For obvious reasons, it could not be given to just anyone. In the end, Mele passed it on to someone on whom I had ordered Chariton to use the power in the past, yet had willpower enough to still resent me deeply for that interference—but, that is a story unto itself."

Sulpicia let out a long, deep sigh. "In any case, you see where we are now. Jonathan and Alexa have been tempted away to join the enemy. Any army is helpless against those two—even one as experienced and well trained as ours. For millennia we the Volturi have maintained peace, kept the world from falling into one of chaos and excess. But it could all be about to fall apart."

My eyes had wandered away from her face again, to stare at the black leather of the seat at the front. I had to admit, it didn't sound good. But there was one thing about all this that still didn't make sense. One question Sulpicia had yet to answer.

"Why?" I asked quietly. "Why all this?"

I turned my gaze back to look at her. As I did, I saw my crimson eyes in the reflection of the tinted window behind her head. The hard face I saw staring at Sulpicia was a frightening one—cold, dangerous. "Taking my friend hostage, forcing me to lie to the person I care about most—why?"

Sulpicia gazed back into my furious face, her features perfectly serene, her misty eyes unfathomable. "I told you," she said softly, "I sought out Riko Shimizu, because she was of the sixth category, a vampire who could affect the gifts of other vampires—she would have had the power to stop that of Josef von Weinrich. We could have put him down with ease, and Mele would not have had to die."

Her hand gently reached out and touched mine. I flinched, but did not pull away—knowing that her touch did not take from me what it did from everyone else. That I was safe from her.

"You, too, are of the sixth category," she said softly. "You are a shield, yes, but a very special one—one who defends, not from physical attacks, but from the gifts of other vampires. Sixth-category vampires who can shield themselves from trackers are common, but yours is a power I have never seen. One that shields from all types of mental intrusion, no matter its category. Only with you, Beau, you and your power, may we have the chance to stand against the powers of Jonathan and Alexa. Stand against them, and destroy them, once and for all."

I stared back at her for a long minute. It was hard to believe that, all along, it wasn't Edythe or Archie she was after, but me. Plain, ordinary me with my thick skull. However—from the moment she started talking about Jonathan and Alexa, I'd already figured where she was going. That wasn't my question.

My expression unchanging, I said flatly, "Yeah, I get that much. You need my power to help you, or you hope it will. What I don't get—if you _really_ wanted my help so much, why you put us through all this. You could have just explained all this from the start. Instead, you kidnapped my friend, and blackmailed me into lying to Edythe. How can I trust a thing you're saying? For all I know, you're just lying about everything, and the reason you had to get me away from Edythe is because she would have known it. After all this, why should I help you?"

Even as the tough words were leaving my mouth, I knew it was pointless. Whether Sulpicia was lying or not, as long as she held Jules in her power, I was helpless. I would have to do whatever she asked, no matter how much I might resent it.

I glared at the back of the seat again, waiting for her to smile, and gently remind me as much.

However, when she turned back to me, her misty eyes were almost surprised. "Why," she said softly, "I would have thought that part was obvious. Why these extraordinary lengths have been necessary."

I continued to glare for a minute, and when she didn't continue, my eyes flickered back to her. I finally muttered, "How's that?"

Sulpicia's expression was soft. "I could not get Riko to side with us because her mate was dead. You see, I have read into the depths of Edythe Cullen's mind, and I knew that, even if I were to have explained my reasons why I needed you, she would not have let you go. You must realize that. And so, very likely she would have gotten hurt trying to fight us—I did indeed force you to lie to her, break faith with her, and I was forced to use your wolf friend to give you adequate incentive to do so, but you must realize that this was the best way, the only way to ensure that she came to no physical harm.

"My way, we have no reason to harm her, and what is more, she will be safe from the fighting. You must understand, Beau, now that you are with us, your life is in as much peril as ours—that is why she would never have allowed you to come with us, and perhaps you might be glad that she is not with you now. Trust me, Beau, Edythe's wellbeing is quite as much a concern for us as for you. I would not have you lost to our cause in the same manner as Riko Shimizu."

I was silent. I turned my eyes back to staring straight ahead. Things were starting to almost make sense, and Sulpicia was right—if I was going to be getting involved in a war, then I was glad of anything that kept Edythe away. Still, I had trouble believing I would ever be able to forgive Sulpicia for any of this. Maybe Sulpicia was trying to do something good, keep the world from falling apart—but I couldn't help but compare her to Edythe, who had told me back when Victor had been coming for them that they wouldn't drink human blood, even if it gave them an edge—because they wouldn't compromise who they were. Sulpicia was of a different cloth. She had absolutely no qualms about manipulating whoever she had to in order to achieve her goals.

There were a lot of things I could have said, could have asked. However, at last, I only said in a low voice, "How do you know? How do you know I'll be able to protect anyone else besides me? I might not even have the power you want."

Sulpicia nodded, and now it was her staring straight ahead, focused on the future. "That is what we are going to find out. We are headed north—we are going to meet with a former member of the Volturi guard, and another member of her new coven, who are going to help train you to use your power, and determine if you can use it in a way that will be useful to us. We should all very much hope so—if not, then all is lost. You are our only hope now."

This was a dire pronouncement, and I chose not to respond. Instead, my eyes slightly narrowed as I stared out the front windshield, I only asked, "Where north?"

Sulpicia smiled. "Quite a ways. Where the weather is so cold, the humans find it unpleasant. It will take us a few days to reach the meeting point—the two I have called will be there, waiting for us. Perhaps you've already met them."

Her smile widened, and without meaning to, I found myself staring back into her darkly misted, unfathomable eyes. She said softly, "I do hope, Beau, you'll like Alaska."

* * *

A/N: Plot!

Again I'll admit often these types of chapters aren't my favorite in books, but in the end I enjoyed working on this one. As far as I know the different types of categories of vampire gifts were never fully explored in canon, so I liked getting the chance to try to flesh out one approach. (I picture Sulpicia's system as slightly different from the hints we get of Aro's.) It was also important to fill in some of the gaps on Sulpicia's motivations for events a few chapters back.

Next chapter has been one of my favorites for this project, so I'm excited to finally get here. We'll see how it goes, wish me luck. :j (Also as a reminder, email notifications for pms are still turned off site-wide, so the only way to check for messags is to go into the account. I hope they'll turn it back on eventually, but I'm not sure how hopeful to be at this point.)

As always—thank you all so much for your thoughts and comments so far, it really means a lot. If you have a moment, let me know how you felt this time around, and hope to see you next time!

Posted 3/2/20


	13. Rebellion

A/N: Hey all, back again with another chapter. It's a little crazy to think of everything that's happened in the world since the last update, I hope you've all been able to stay healthy and safe, through economic hardships going on as well as health concerns.

I mean to keep posting on the same schedule as always, though if anything changes I may break the rules a little and post an A/N chapter explaining any delays.

As always, I've very much appreciated all your support, and again, very much hope you're all doing well. Hope you enjoy this one, and see you at the end.

* * *

Chapter 12: Rebellion

**Edythe**

I had never been a very patient person. Maybe that was the reason I had always been faster than the others—I couldn't help but want to race ahead, to get things done as soon as possible.

Several times over the interminably long journey back to Washington, Archie had to call to me to slow down. It wasn't like the meeting could start before he got there anyway.

I knew he was right, and I did slow down—but as my mind automatically calculated the lost minutes of my reduced speed, I felt like the impatience might burn me from the inside out.

Beau. Beau was waiting for me—or maybe he wasn't. Maybe he'd already resigned himself to whatever fate Sulpicia's plans led him to, hoping that I would remain safely out of the way. That would be just like him.

As we crossed into Washington, the trees grew more familiar, until we were in our own forest. I tasted so many scents I knew well on the air, and again I sped up slightly, though this time Archie managed to keep pace. Even though it was mid-August, it must have rained recently, because our running feet sent droplets of damp scattering in all directions, and a fine mist hung over the ground. The sky was still heavy and ponderous overhead.

When we broke through the trees, Archie immediately slowed, but I kept running, right up to the door of the house, and I blew inside.

Archie had, of course, told them precisely when we would arrive, and everyone was waiting in the living room. Royal, Eleanor, Jessamine, Carine, and Earnest.

They all immediately took in the wild look in my eyes, and no one spoke, each simply trying to guess what it meant.

"Dining room," I said abruptly, without greeting, and strode on through.

I heard no movement behind me for a moment, then everyone slowly got up and followed. I heard the front door open when Archie arrived a moment later.

I didn't sit, only moved to stand at one end of the room, my arms folded, hardly able to suppress my agitation. I watched as Carine and Earnest took their usual seats at the head of the ovular dining table, while Royal and Eleanor took up chairs a little ways down it. Jessamine, as usual, was more comfortable to stand, but of course Archie also found a chair. His face was somber, though he kept his body posture relaxed.

"Edythe," Carine said, turning solemn eyes to me. "What's going on? What has happened to Beau? Archie didn't say."

I stood where I was, unmoving as a statue, but my eyes flickered from one face to the next. I didn't like to admit how Sulpicia had duped me, how when Beau had seemed to reject me I had believed him, rather than seen through to the truth—the chance to think on the run over made me beyond certain that Archie's theory was absolutely correct. I still didn't understand how I could have been played for such a fool—but this was no time for my pride, not when Beau was in danger.

"Beau is in Sulpicia's hands now," I said, cutting it down to the essentials. "Sulpicia called me—she told me the time she would allow Beau to remain human was up, and she would not give us another chance if we didn't comply immediately. I didn't tell Beau about Sulpicia, but I did ask him if that was what he really wanted, and—"

I took a deep breath, as shame burned through my throat and lungs. I finished softly, "...I changed him."

I waited for a moment, not sure what to expect. Shock, maybe. Anger, disgust. After going on about how determined I was to keep him human, not wanting him to be forced to make the sacrifices he would have to make to join this life, I had caved into Sulpicia's blackmail. I felt weak, pathetic.

But the onslaught never came. Eleanor merely rolled her eyes and thought, _It's about time. _Jessamine was calculating the risk it had been for me to try to deal with a newborn on my own without the rest of them there, but knew almost better than anyone that the Volturi's word was law, and primarily she radiated relief—she had still been harboring the fear I would somehow accidentally kill him beforehand, perhaps on the honeymoon. Earnest's smile was wide, full of radiant joy for me. Carine was slightly troubled, knowing how hard I had resisted this outcome, but she, too, was predominantly relieved.

Royal scowled and gave me a look of pure disdain, but even his thoughts weren't what I expected. _You decided to do this,_ he thought at me harshly, his mouth set in a hard line. _Accept it. Don't stand there looking sorry. _

For a second, I didn't react. Of course no one was really upset I had changed him, I don't know why I had thought they would be. Even in Royal's case, his stance against Beau's change had always come at least partly out of selfishness, seeing Beau throw away those things he longed to have for himself. Not a true understanding of what Beau had to lose by choosing me, the people he would leave behind, his very soul condemned forever. I was the only one who had been truly set against the change—who saw the terrible sacrifices he would be forced to make.

I took a deep, steadying breath, and continued, "What I didn't realize at the time is that Sulpicia had more in mind than just making Beau change because she doesn't want humans that aren't hers to know the secret. After Beau changed, he seemed... different. Distant. I assumed it was the shock of the change, or even possibly he resented me for what I had done. Harbored some regrets—he, of course, didn't care for the taste of the animal blood."

I paused. "It wasn't long after that, he...that is to say..." I swallowed. Then, gritting my teeth, I forced myself to go on. "He convinced me his feelings weren't the same. That he didn't want to live as we did. I tried to argue for him to stay, or at least accept my help in some way, but he wouldn't. In the end, he... left."

They all stared back at me. The room was absolutely silent.

To everyone's surprise but mine, it was Jessamine who broke it. "Left?" she whispered. "You mean you—let him go?"

I didn't reply. I just closed my eyes. When I opened them again, I saw the look of shock in her eyes had turned to anger. It had been a little while since Jessamine had last hunted, and her eyes were nearly black as she glared ferociously at me. The white scars on her jaw and neck stood out starkly in the kitchen light.

"You let a newborn wander off on his own?" she said in a low, dangerous voice. "Even if his feelings _had_ changed, newborns can't be left to themselves under any circumstances. Especially not when they are hours old. They are mad with thirst, volatile—they have to have someone to keep them under control. Don't you realize...? If he goes wild, then it is you, as his creator, that Sulpicia would track down and punish. Perhaps all of us."

Her hard eyes didn't turn from me, but I felt her thoughts flicker to Archie. Her fury was like shards of ice, cold and sharp, and her lips curled back from her teeth. "Do you realize what you've done?" she whispered.

I gazed back at Jessamine steadily. I knew she was right, but this time I didn't let the sick shame of my mistake overtake me—there was too much at stake.

"I know," I said. "He was very convincing, and I succumbed to a moment of weakness—but I don't think we have to worry about his running amok on his own." My eyes flickered once to Archie, then back to the others. "Like I said—we think that Sulpicia herself was behind all this, and now he's in Sulpicia's clutches."

Once again the room fell into silence, as they all considered this.

"What makes you think that, Edythe?" Carine asked at last softly. Her hands were folded in front of her, and she studied me with earnest attentiveness.

I shook my head. "The timing of all this—it's too much to be a coincidence. It's hard to believe that Sulpicia would be wasting time forcing my hand if there wasn't something she wanted out of it, what with what's been going on in Europe. Then with Beau leaving, when no one, not even Archie saw it coming—as convincing as he was at the time, I realize now I should have seen that wasn't like him. Even if his feelings _had_ changed, and he wasn't quite so keen on Carine's way of life anymore, I have trouble believing he would leave that fast—I see that now."

Royal snorted. "Unless he thought breaking with you early was better than breaking with you later." His lip curled. "Maybe he knew if he was going to get away, he had to do it fast."

I shifted my gaze to glare at him.

"Sounds to me like this is all speculation," Royal continued loudly. "Maybe you'd like to think Sulpicia's pulling the strings, but the fact is, you never knew what he was really thinking. None of us did."

I felt like something was boiling in my throat, but I forced myself to swallow it. Getting into one of my usual fights with Royal wasn't going to get Beau any closer to being saved. So, when I spoke, through sheer force of will I kept my voice at a measured calm.

"There's more. Beau's future has disappeared, just as Sulpicia's future disappeared just before the wedding. So if they were together, that would explain it. We think perhaps Sulpicia has somehow taken Julie Black captive, and that is how she has gotten Beau to do what she wants."

I waited to see if Royal would make another objection to this blatant guesswork, but he didn't, though his lip remained curled.

I continued, "Archie and I think that Sulpicia was interested in Beau's potential talent—that she wanted it for some reason."

I noticed Earnest's eyebrows had come together above his eyes. "But if she needed Beau's skill, why wouldn't she have simply come to you and asked? Sulpicia considers Carine a friend—why would she have Beau lie to you and leave in such a way? Surely coming to you and explaining the situation would have been easier."

"Exactly," Royal said, triumphant. "Or she could have come right up to you and taken him by force, without all these pointless contortions."

I didn't respond right away. In fact, I could guess exactly why Sulpicia would not have come and explained things to me directly. Sulpicia had touched me back when we were in Volterra. She knew me and my deepest thoughts in a way that no one, not even Carine and the rest of my family, did. If Sulpicia wanted Beau for this conflict in Europe, she knew I would hardly give my blessing—that, in fact, I would fight it with everything I was, fight ever letting him expose himself to that kind of danger. If there was a war on one side of the world, I would drag him to the other end if I had to in order to keep him away from it.

Yet, it was true that Sulpicia could have surrounded us and taken him against our will if she had wished to. I could only imagine that she had her reasons for maneuvering her chess pieces with such care. Perhaps she had anticipated the chase I would give her, and decided this the best way to avoid it.

"Of course, there is always the chance that Archie and I are wrong, and Beau just simply abandoned me," I said evenly. "If that's it—fine. But you might all want to consider how often Archie and I, when we are in agreement on something, have been wrong."

No one answered—they couldn't. For years it was Archie and I and our gifts that they had relied on to keep our family safe. The power to see the future and read minds, it was a powerful combination—it allowed us to see almost everything, with few blind spots. Now we had both seen clues enough that all seemed to point in one direction.

"Okay," Eleanor said after a minute, speaking for the first time. "Let's say you and Archie are right, and Sulpicia has gotten her hands on Beau. What exactly are you wanting us to do about it? Track her down and give her a fight? Steal him back?" She grinned, then shrugged. "Don't get me wrong, I love the idea. But this _is_ the Volturi we're talking about. You honestly think we'd stand a chance?"

"We'd be slaughtered," Jessamine murmured. "As are any who attempt to oppose Sulpicia."

"But Beau is family," Earnest argued softly. "If he has indeed been taken against his will, how can we desert him? We were all willing to fight for him no matter how bleak things appeared when we faced Victor—is this any different?"

I shot my father a grateful look.

Royal, who had been looking sullen as the others seemed to come around to my way of thinking, curled his lip again. "There's a difference between setting our sights to defend against a rogue army of newborns led by a madman, and meaningless suicide throwing ourselves up against the likes of the Volturi." He paused, then added, "_If _the theory is true."

Jessamine said nothing, but her eyes were on me, and I could feel her silent agreement.

"Look," I said, forcing my voice to remain steady as my eyes swept the table. "The Volturi has split up and fled from Volterra, we know that much from what Archie saw before his sight was cut off. They aren't at their strongest right now. We might be able to use that to our advantage—we're a big coven, full of experienced fighters. I think we would have a better chance than you all might think."

Jessamine shook her head. "If Archie could see—maybe. Maybe we could consider mounting a rescue." Her eyes met mine. "But Royal is right. Blind, we would be doing no more than destroying ourselves."

Once again, my gaze swept over them, looking at each face in turn. My eyes flickered to Archie, waiting for him to back me up. However, he was leaning back in his chair, as though separating himself from the discussion. He didn't look at me, and I saw in his thoughts he wasn't so much focused on the current conversation as on the immediate future. I saw what he saw, and I froze.

My eyes slowly turned to Carine.

I had been so focused on the others, I hadn't noticed her thoughts, quiet, subdued as they were. She was sitting up straight, her hands folded in her lap, her deep eyes sad.

"Edythe," she said gently.

"No," I answered, shaking my head, even as my fingers trembled.

Carine looked around at the entire table, meeting everyone's gaze in turn, until her eyes came back to rest on me.

"Edythe," she said kindly, "I don't think this is about whether we _can_ defeat Sulpicia or not and take Beau back. You must see, Edythe—Sulpicia is already fighting one rebellion. Are you going to try to lead another?"

"If she didn't want us as her enemies, she should have thought of that before she took Beau," I spat. "If she threatens one of us, she threatens all of us." I added harshly, "Or don't you consider Beau a part of this family?"

"You know I do," Carine said softly, with feeling. "I would, even if he had indeed left you because he did not want to live this way of life. But, Edythe, it sounds to me like, even if your theory is correct, Sulpicia has not taken Beau for the purpose of causing him any harm. She only wants his aid. Sulpicia does what she does for the sake of upholding peace. For us to fight her, possibly harm her... I believe the impact on our worlds, both human and vampire, would be catastrophic. We cannot justify it."

I shook my head. She didn't understand—none of them did. Only I had seen into Sulpicia's thoughts. How dangerous she was. Just how far she was willing to go to achieve her ends.

"We have to get him away from her," I insisted. "That's what's important. How can you just—how can you abandon him like this?"

I could feel in my mind how deeply my words cut her. I saw in Carine's eyes—my mother's eyes—the pain. But she didn't waver.

"We are not abandoning Beau, Edythe," she said gently. "As I said, if what you say is true, then harming him in any way will be the last thing Sulpicia wants. If she really needs him, enough that she would go to all this trouble... then perhaps it is best we leave him with her, and wait for her to let him come back to us in good time. If it was a question of his life, then you know we would gladly give ourselves up to protect him, to try to save him if we could. But this situation is clearly not so simple as that—I think if Sulpicia needs Beau to stop the uprising in Europe before the destruction can destroy the peace of the world that she has been maintaining, then it is better that we leave him to help her."

Something was clawing at my throat again, a fire so much worse than thirst. I felt sick—my mind was spinning, burning, and I couldn't seem to think clearly.

"But—he's in danger," I choked, and I stared at Carine, my eyes wide with desperation. "He's in danger. What Sulpicia wants to use him for is dangerous—I know it is. That's why she had to keep me out of it—that's why she took him from me like this."

My words came out in a rush, and my voice was higher than usual. I knew I sounded half crazed, but I couldn't help it—they _had_ to help me save Beau. That was what mattered. Once I had Beau back, and safe, then we could worry about the world.

"Archie," I said, spinning on him. "You know what I mean. You can't see, but I'm sure you can feel it. Sulpicia is going to put him right on the front lines. She'll use him, use him until she has what she wants and puts down the rebellion. What are the chances a new, inexperienced newborn is going to make it out of a firestorm in Europe? Sulpicia knows the odds, but she won't care."

Archie still didn't meet my eyes. Instead, at last he sighed deeply, running a hand over the short stubble on his head.

"I hear what you're saying, Edy," he said at last. "We all do. But I think Carine's right—we can't interfere. Or at least, it would be wrong for us to try to. We could try to fight Sulpicia and beat her to get Beau back, and we might succeed, but what then? Without the Volturi to keep our kind in line, there would be a power struggle for who's going to take their place, and whoever it is might not be so dedicated to secrecy. If we took out Sulpicia, we might save Beau, but the whole world could erupt in flames. I think it's better if we sit back and wait this time, Edy. Just trust Beau to find a way to help Sulpicia keep the world in order, then make his way back to you. That's all we can do."

I stood where I was, perfectly still. My eyes traveled the table slowly, going from one face to the next. I saw Earnest look between Archie and Carine, and his shoulders slumped.

"How would we find them anyway?" Earnest asked, resigned, as he turned sorrowful eyes back to me.

I barely glanced at him as my gaze finally rested on Carine. She, unlike Earnest, saw no problem in finding Beau and Sulpicia—she already knew who we might ask. I felt her try to suppress the thought—the first time she had ever tried to hide a thought from me in all the time I had known her. But I saw what I needed anyway.

I took a slow step back from the table. "Fine," I said, in a voice so low they barely heard it. "I... understand."

I did understand. They wouldn't help me. But they didn't need to—I didn't need them.

Archie, who had been sitting in his chair slightly slumped, suddenly jerked up straight. His eyes were wide as a new future suddenly folded out in his mind, expanding, racing ahead like a raging fire over a plain of dead grass. He finally turned to stare at me, with a look as though he had never seen me before.

Jessamine saw his expression, and her eyebrows came down in confusion. She took an automatic half-step toward me.

I didn't bother to think. I turned, and ran.

In an instant I had blown through the front room and through the open door, and soon I was tearing through the forest like a bullet, so fast that to human eyes I would have been no more than a streak of color, a breath of wind. I had always been the fastest, and I knew not a one of them would have a hope to catch me—not Carine, not Jessamine, nor even Archie, who even now must be watching the new possibilities of my future racing ahead, growing more distinct as my plans began to solidify. Overhead, the sky was turning a roiling black, and the temperature dropped as another storm approached.

I still loved Carine, and all of my family. On some level, I understood their decision. Maybe it was better this way—at least if they stayed here, they wouldn't be in danger. I wouldn't have to be responsible for any of their deaths.

My hand reached inside my jacket, and closed briefly over my phone. Once I was well away, I needed to make a phone call—I had to find out for certain that the wolves had still had no contact with Julie. And they deserved an update on what was going on, what might be happening to their sister.

Of course, they couldn't help, even if that was bound to be Sarah's first response. The people I was seeking out would likely not work so well with wolves—they were far from vegetarians, and unlikely to be ready to put aside ancient enmities. However, even more I couldn't afford to have the wolves close by if I failed. If Beau—didn't make it.

Because before I followed him into oblivion, the one responsible would pay. And I would break any rule or treaty I had to to do it.

For the first time, a face other than Beau's flickered behind my eyes. A wild, deranged face, with hair like a blazing fire.

I had never told Beau just how much Victor had frightened me. Not because of his meager fighting abilities, or his out-of-control newborn army—no, what had always terrified me most about Victor was that, when I imagined his feral features, sometimes I thought I saw my own staring back at me. Because I knew that if things had been reversed, if Joss had killed Beau and she and Victor had escaped, then it would have been myself set on a mad path of vengeance. I would have done anything I had to in order to destroy her, to make her feel every bit of pain she had inflicted on Beau a thousandfold.

Now as I raced through the darkening forest, though Victor was long dead, I saw his features in my mind. I knew if I was too late, if Sulpicia's actions led to Beau's death, I would destroy her, or else die in the attempt.

I saw myself again in Archie's last, flickering vision before I had left—myself, standing in deep shadows, at the head of an army of my own, my eyes a blazing red. Over decades, centuries if I had to, I would gather the gifts I needed, destroying any I created who had any thoughts of betraying me—after all, not a one of them would be able to lie to me. I would know which were dedicated to the cause, and which were not, would know their minds well enough to know what I might say to win their loyalty or prevent myself from losing it.

However, that was far in the future, and contingent on whether or not Beau could be saved now. The image of the vision faded for the moment.

Likely I was racing toward nothing but pain and tragedy. And if I was too late, there would be nothing but the path of vengeance left to me, to again become the monster I had once been long ago, and worse.

But I couldn't afford to worry about that now; for the present, I would do absolutely everything I could to bring Beau back safely. No matter what I had to do.

* * *

A/N: And, there's another one down.

This is a chapter I'd been looking forward to for awhile, so I'm glad I had it mostly done ahead of time. I did re-edit the last tail-end scene quite a bit as it was somewhat overlong, so if it feels on the rough side that may be why.

Again, hope you're all doing well in spite of everything going on. Take care of yourselves, and as always, looking forward to seeing you in the next one.

Posted 3/30/20


	14. Reunion

A/N: Hey guys, back again.

The draft of this chapter wasn't quite what I wanted it to be, so I did my best to do quite a bit of rewriting this time. (Hopefully I didn't introduce too many errors, but I think it is much better than it was before.)

Once again hope you all have been able to stay safe and healthy. A long chapter this time, especially compared to the last one. As always, thanks so much for reading and sticking with me all this time, and see you at the end!

* * *

Chapter 13: Reunion

**Beau**

It was a long journey. However, I was sure the combination of my new vampire senses and the inferno in my throat made it feel a thousand times longer.

I could have asked Sulpicia why we didn't all just get out and run—surely, in spite of all the speed limits Cato was currently smashing, we would get to Alaska in half the time. However, even with the blazing agony in my throat, I didn't want to talk to her anymore than I absolutely had to. She probably had some reason, however obscure.

I closed my eyes and concentrated, minute by minute, hour by hour, wishing I could shut out the sound of Jules's pumping heart. Her smell was still not in anyway appealing—I would sooner be tempted by rotting carrion—but the sound constantly reminded me of what I knew _would_ make delicious prey. The fire was like a screaming, writhing animal, a molten snake covered in spikes, and the only torture that could have compared to it was the all-consuming blaze of my transformation.

I didn't ask Sulpicia if I might get out for a quick hunt. Even if I'd thought she would let me, I wouldn't leave Jules alone with these people for anything, and right now I thought I'd rather die than ask Sulpicia for a favor.

Jules never awoke during the journey. Every now and again, Tacita would shift forward, to quickly inject something into Jules's arm, a tranquilizer of some kind. Jules's body evidently burned it off so quickly they needed to keep administering it. I knew it was probably necessary—Sulpicia didn't need to explain to me why it would not be a good thing if Jules awoke right here, in a car surrounded by vampires—but it didn't stop my hands from clenching, tendons standing out on my wrists, every single time.

I tried to distract myself thinking about what Sulpicia had told me. A vampire uprising, the desertion of two key Volturi members, Jonathan and Alexa. If true, it was serious—and yet, at the same time, it all still felt so far away. There seemed a disconnect between me, Edythe, and Jules, and this. It felt like this was something Sulpicia and her people ought to know how to deal with without dragging regular people like us into it. I already had my doubts any plan that involved me would have the slightest chance.

It wasn't until, quite a while after the car had turned off the main highway, and run along a network of under-serviced back roads filled with potholes—the suspension of the Mercedes somehow miraculously kept us from being jostled too much, and I had a feeling Jules would have had to resist fawning over it if she were awake—that Sulpicia finally spoke.

"We're getting close now," she murmured, her eyes half closed as though on the verge of falling asleep. "Or at least, the end of the first leg of the journey."

"Denali?" I said stiffly, speaking for the first time in hours.

Sulpicia smiled. "No, we won't be going all the way into the park. It's a little too close to the main coven, and I asked the two coming to meet us not to tell the others of what we were doing. So they will wait for us at a point near the eastern tip of the Alaska Range. It's not quite so populated as the center of the range."

I paused at this. I had figured when she said Alaska that we would be going somewhere fairly remote, but that made it sound like there might still be a stray hiker here or there. If I picked up the scent of human at the wrong moment, was there a chance I might go berserk like I had in Colorado? I knew Edythe would have done everything she could to stop me doing anything I'd regret, but I doubted Sulpicia would do the same. She'd only care if there was a chance that the killing would somehow risk vampire exposure—and out in the wilderness, in the middle of nowhere, that didn't seem too likely.

I forced my tensed shoulders to relax. I just had to keep my concentration up. Make sure I never gave myself over to my instincts too fully, even when I was hunting. Sulpicia and the others weren't going to watch out for me, so I had to make sure I kept a firm grip on myself.

"There," said Sulpicia, speaking to Cato. "That will do. We will stop here."

Cato obediently slowed and turned the wheel, pulling off onto the shoulder.

"We will keep the car in between that rock formation over there, on the west side. That should keep it out of sight, and from attracting attention from anyone who drives through here. Though activity along this particular road is rare."

We all got out. Tacita picked up Jules—her mouth twisting, and holding Jules's limp form away from her the way she might a particularly toxic bag of sludge.

I felt my jaw tighten, but I forced myself to turn away to glare at the horizon—the sun had already set. It seemed even in mid-August, the days in Alaska were already getting shorter.

Cato didn't drive the car over the uneven landscape to the rocks, rather he simply picked it up over his head, and carried it over to the spot Sulpicia had specified. He then picked up a few more rocks and pulled up some foliage by the roots to arrange around the car to further obscure it. To my eyes, it still looked way too obvious it was there, but at least it wasn't visible from the road, and perhaps weak human eyes might be more likely to be fooled, at least at a distance.

"We will be proceeding the rest of the way on foot," Sulpicia announced. "It's not far." She glanced at me, then nodded at Tacita.

Tacita, who had now left Jules in a heap on the ground, turned toward me, and I saw she had drawn from the car a neatly folded pile of dark material. She held it in front of her, then shook it out to reveal it as a smokey gray Volturi cloak.

I knew immediately what Sulpicia expected of me, and I felt my lips curl back from my teeth.

"I'm _not _wearing that," I snarled.

Tacita's eyes narrowed, but Sulpicia was serene as ever.

"It is dark now, but the sun will be coming up eventually," she explained patiently. "Having even a little skin exposed could attract the attention of human eyes, even at a fair distance."

I glared at it, then turned my eyes away sharply to scowl fiercely at the rock formation. "Aren't we going somewhere away from humans?" I spat. "How will you expect me to concentrate on my...training?" I didn't try to argue that the dark cloaks could make us more visible in the light, especially against the pale, snowy landscape. Sulpicia only cared about being seen in an otherworldly, inhuman way—or maybe she just wanted to prove to me again who was in charge.

"Yes, we will be in a very remote part of the range," Sulpicia replied soothingly. "However, this is just a precaution."

"I'm not wearing it," I repeated through gritted teeth. I turned away, ready to start, though I didn't yet know which direction we'd be going.

I saw out of the corner of my eye as Tacita knelt down. I tried to keep my gaze looking straight ahead, but the movement drew my attention, and I turned partway—just in time to see Tacita's lightning fast hand strike Jules across the face.

It wasn't a hard hit for a vampire—I knew if Tacita had wanted, she could have hit Jules hard enough to smash in her skull. However, I stared, shocked at the sudden red welt on Jules's cheek.

A red tint seemed to fall over my vision. A feral roar of rage tore from my mouth, echoing over the vast, desolate tundra, and my back bent, in automatic preparation to spring.

Brenden flinched back, but everyone else simply watched me, unreacting. Tacita's eyes were cold, almost daring me to try to attack her.

Sulpicia sighed slightly. "Now, see, Beau, you will make things much easier on yourself—and your friend—if you simply cooperate. We are all on the same side. Though you must admit, Tacita, that was a little impolite."

Tacita didn't reply, only continued to eye me without emotion.

I wasn't at all fooled by the almost apologetic look Sulpicia was now directing my way. Maybe she was going to try to make me think that Tacita was the overzealous, violent one, while Sulpicia was all kind benevolence. But I got the sense from Tacita she wouldn't so much as pull a dandelion without Sulpicia's say-so, and very likely she was following orders Sulpicia had already given her. I could almost hear the words in my head—_If he's uncooperative, use the dog and _make_ him cooperate._

I didn't look at either of them as, glaring furiously, I strode forward and snatched the cloak still dangling from one of Tacita's hands, undoing the clasp and wrenching it around my shoulders.

Sulpicia seemed satisfied. "There now, that wasn't so difficult. Let us move on then."

Tacita had bent again toward Jules—clearly she was the designated carrier.

I might have been able to put up with it if it were Cato, but I didn't want Tacita touching her again, especially as her mouth tightened and nose wrinkled with disgust. Before her hands made contact, I stepped forward.

"I'll do that," I said stiffly.

Tacita's narrowed eyes flickered down to Jules, nose still wrinkled, then back up to me. She said nothing.

Sulpicia glanced at me, looking thoughtful for a moment. Then she nodded permission at Tacita. "Mind your newborn strength," she told me mildly.

I knelt down and, very gingerly, concentrating hard on what I was doing, I reached forward. Sliding my forearms ever so carefully beneath her, I stood back up, raising her to chest height. She dangled limply, head lolling against my arm.

Although I never would have told her, I'd always thought Jules was kind of heavy for a girl, especially considering how lanky she was. I'd figured it must be a wolf-thing—all that dense muscle compacted into wiry limbs. However, with my new strength, she felt almost disconcertingly light. As I stared down into her face, I noticed she looked a little thin. I wondered when had been the last time she had eaten.

I started to follow Sulpicia, as she turned in the direction of the mountains to the west, but I paused.

"Um," I began uncertainly. "Do you think she'll...wake up soon?"

"Very likely," Sulpicia answered. "The last injection will be wearing off before long, and we are close enough to our destination that we will not be administering another, at least for the present. I never intended to keep her unconscious permanently, I only thought it was best for travel."

I didn't reply, not sure whether I ought to be relieved or anxious. Instead, I turned my eyes briefly to the landscape around us. My throat was screaming, flames that made my entire head feel like it was on fire. Considering I may be coming in proximity of hikers at some point, I knew I couldn't let my pride get in the way anymore.

"I need to hunt," I said abruptly. I would just have to take my chances with leaving Jules with them, Sulpicia wouldn't let anything happen to her as long as she was still useful to keep a grip on me, or so I hoped.

Sulpicia smiled indulgently. "Of course. You are still so new—I admit I've been in quiet awe of your control on the journey here, I was certain you would have to be restrained. I haven't known any newborn but Carine to be able to hold out so long without succumbing to madness. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to hold out a bit longer, but once we arrive I will have Tacita fetch something for you. Your friends we are meeting have told me there is a variety of options for one of your particular diet, grizzly bears being the main... ah, delicacy."

I was relieved Sulpicia wasn't going to try to force me into eating like they did, but at the same time I stared at her a moment in vague disbelief. I wondered if she honestly thought I was a flight risk after all this. For some reason, the thought of waiting around for Tacita to bring me a dead carcass of something was revolting—or worse, her dragging in some poor beast still alive.

"I can hunt myself," I said, corner of my mouth tightening slightly. "You know I won't run."

"Oh yes, I know," replied Sulpicia. "But I would prefer if neither you nor I were separated from your wolf friend, for the time being. You see, I rather suspect your friend Archie will still be looking for us, you especially. Were you suddenly to reappear he would know your location. And if Archie knew, your Edythe would likely also know soon after. I think you would agree it would be in both our interests for that not to happen."

She knew she had me, and I saw her point. Whatever Edythe was thinking now of what I had said, I didn't want her to know where I was and come find me. Sulpicia had said she didn't want harm to come to Edythe anymore than I did, but I wasn't sure I trusted that, and I didn't want Edythe anywhere near Sulpicia if I could avoid it. However, I folded my arms anyway.

"And how do you know he isn't watching Tacita's future?" My voice came out a little more petulant than I meant.

Sulpicia nodded thoughtfully. "That is a risk. However, I think it unlikely for two reasons. First, there is a limit on the things he can be watching for at once. Watching someone's future for _any_ decision, _any_ time consumes quite a bit of concentration, of which there is a limited supply, and no doubt he is watching for both of us. Even if he thinks to look at Tacita's future, I doubt he would maintain a constant focus on her. Second, I think he would find it difficult to keep consistent tabs on someone he knew so little from such a distance. He has likely not spent much time looking for Tacita's future, and so it would take a great deal more effort to keep the same level of attention he can give to us. I doubt he would see watching for her as worthwhile, considering Tacita's future has also been blacked out by your friend up to now."

For a second, I could only stare back at her. Of course, Sulpicia had seen into Archie's mind, and knew how his power worked. However, it was still unsettling to realize she had a more complete and intimate knowledge of Archie's sight than I did, in spite of how long I had known him. It was disturbing—and irritating.

With the conversation over, Sulpicia and the others turned for the woods. And, one by one, we all set off.

* * *

Running, as with everything physical, was easy now, even with a werewolf in my arms. At first, I was careful, trying not to jostle her, but then I realized my run was naturally almost perfectly smooth even without any special effort on my part. Not that she would be very happy if she did wake up, finding herself in the grips of a vampire.

As if reading my mind, Jules gave a slight shudder. I realized then that my hand was touching her bare shoulder, and I shifted the sleeve of my cloak so it would shield her from me. I wouldn't have admitted it, but I was glad of the cloak now.

We raced silently along the dark tundra. The night was surprisingly balmy for Alaska, somewhere in the forties, I would have guessed—I don't know how I could still sense the temperature when it didn't really affect me, but somehow I did. Apparently, even Alaska had a summer. I was glad—as much as Jules might go on about being able to stand in snowstorms, she was still human.

We came upon the edge of the mountains—the eastern tip of the Alaska Range Sulpicia had mentioned, I supposed. We powered as a tightly knit group up into the dense forest of black spruces.

Once or twice I found my head turning just enough to, out of the corner of my eye, glance back at Sulpicia—there was something almost too bizarre about seeing her racing through the forest with the rest of us. I realized I had never seen her do anything really active; when I saw her, she was always sitting, majestic and serene, like a queen on her throne. Her skin looked so fragile, like glass, and though her body was young, her misty eyes gave the distinct impression of an old woman whose sight was failing. Running beside Tacita and the others, her black cloak billowing out behind her—it was surreal.

I expected Sulpicia to run at the center, the most protected spot of the cluster, but she kept further to the back, with only the boy Renatus running behind her, keeping one hand clutched around the material at her back. If either of them found running that way uncomfortable or unnatural, they didn't show it.

Tacita, rather than sticking with Sulpicia, kept close to me. Every foot I shifted, either to the right or left, she moved with me, like my shadow, making me wonder if Sulpicia had really been telling the truth about not being afraid I would try to make a break for it. Of course I wasn't an idiot. I may have Jules in my hands, but I would never be able to outrun all four of them—in fact, if it was Tacita alone, I wasn't sure I'd even have been able to get away from her, even without Jules's slight weight to slow me down.

There was something about Tacita that, as far as my newborn instincts were concerned, set my teeth on edge. She would kill anyone who threatened Sulpicia without a second thought, so fast they wouldn't even know it happened. She seemed the perfect lieutenant for Sulpicia, the outward expression of everything Sulpicia was, but hid behind a genteel smile.

Only when we had been running for some time did Tacita's expression change. Her mouth tightened, and she turned her head abruptly, staring off at something in the distance. She shared a brief look with Cato. He nodded once, and Tacita abruptly fell back.

Cato took her place running at my side, too close for comfort, but my eyes followed Tacita, to where she had fallen into stride beside Sulpicia. She reached over and touched two fingers to Sulpicia's wrist—communicating some information.

Sulpicia sighed. "I suppose it can't be helped. They must have known something was amiss. At least this way, the other two won't feel they are under any particular time constraints."

Tacita didn't reply, at least not aloud, and she pushed ahead to come run next to me again. However, Sulpicia noticed me looking, and she smiled.

"Just a small wrinkle," she said. "I told you we were meeting two, but it seems there will be a few more than that. But, I wouldn't worry. It makes little difference, except perhaps you may have a slightly bigger audience."

On the contrary, I did find this a worry—I didn't think I needed any bigger audience than I already had to my likely failure. However, I didn't answer.

I breathed in, and for the first time I tasted on the wind the scent of two different vampires. I breathed in again, trying to detect if there were any others, but while I picked up a few old trails, I didn't smell anything fresh. I wondered if I was missing something, but I supposed I would see when we got there.

We ran, and the two scents grew stronger, until my eyes finally caught sight of a clearing ahead, through the thick dark trees.

Our formation shifted, Tacita and Cato pulling in closer, forcing us into an even tighter group. Brenden pulled up to my left side, also running closer than could possibly be comfortable. I was forced back toward Sulpicia and Renatus, leaving me at the center. I gripped Jules's limp form a little closer to my chest.

Tacita and Cato broke the trees first, and we were barely a fraction of a second behind. There we all came to an abrupt stop.

Just as my senses had told me, I saw only two vampires. The ground stretched out empty between us, flat, pale gray stone gouged and potmarked with erosion. It seemed to abruptly disappear not far behind them, what I assumed to be the dropoff of a sheer cliff. They stared back across at us with the golden eyes of vampire vegetarians.

Although the last time I had seen these two had been as a human, I recognized them immediately. One was female, with an olive skin tone beneath her chalky pallor, and close-cropped black hair. Elena—one of the Spanish couple of the Denali coven. The other had long hair the color of pale sunlight, which hung to his shoulders. Kirill, if I was remembering his name right, or Ki, as his brother Tanvir had called him.

Kirill stood a little behind Elena, and it was clear who was going to be acting as the spokesperson and decision-maker. I was a little surprised—from what I remembered at our wedding, Elena had seemed one of the quieter members of the coven, hanging a little in the background. Now she stood straight and tall, her face solemn.

My eyes flickered about the clearing, but still I didn't see or smell any other vampires. I doubted Tacita could be mistaken—they must have some way they thought they might avoid detection.

I expected Tacita to start hurling accusations right off, but she remained silent and I was taken aback when Sulpicia, Renatus still clinging to the back of her cloak, immediately strode forward, delicate fingers extended to shake.

"Elena," she said warmly. "It's so good to see you again, it's been too long. Thank you so much for coming, we very much appreciate it."

Elena hesitated only a second before she reached out her own hand, clasping her fingers around Sulpicia's—and giving Sulpicia every single thought and memory she had ever had.

"I am more than happy to be of assistance, if I can," Elena said softly, though I thought I saw, as she watched Sulpicia, a kind of wariness in her tawny eyes.

"It was really such a shame when you left," Sulpicia said, sighing. "I was always sorry to have let you get away."

I watched Elena from where I stood with the others, and wondered what sort of gift she might have that would have made her useful to Sulpicia. It was hard to imagine her in a dark cloak, standing beside Tacita.

Elena let go first, drawing her hand back, and Sulpicia didn't stop her. Instead, Sulpicia turned, offering her hand to Kirill next.

He looked even more reluctant than Elena. His hand clenched in an involuntary fist, before he uncurled his fingers and stiffly stretched out his hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you again, Kirill," said Sulpicia. "Although I'm afraid it's not under much more pleasant circumstances than the last."

Kirill didn't respond.

Sulpicia glanced down at their joined hands, then withdrew hers.

"Well," she said, smiling, "it seems you are both unaware that you've had some tagalongs following you at a distance."

A gasp escaped between Elena's teeth, and Kirill's eyes widened.

"Two miles to the north," said Sulpicia, "upwind. Just close enough that your friends can make out most of what we say on the breeze, and of course, they can all smell us as well. Since they are here, it would be rude not to extend an invitation."

Elena had gone very still, her olive complexion bone-white. Kirill was tense, fists clenching again. "The fools," he muttered furiously under his breath.

"It's understandable," Sulpicia said sympathetically. Her eyes flickered to Elena. "I suppose when you abruptly wanted to go hunting on your own, when you and Carlos always go together, it was natural they suspected something unusual was afoot. And Kirill wanting to go hunting alone at the same time... you have very good friends. They worry about you."

Elena relaxed slightly, though her eyes remained wary. Kirill still looked agitated.

Elena paused, then said hesitantly in her soft voice, "From what I understood from your message—the situation sounds grave."

Sulpicia nodded. "Indeed, the position we find ourselves now is as dire as any we've faced. We need your help, more perhaps than we ever have before."

Elena nodded, though she regarded Sulpicia with a mix of uncertainty and apprehension.

Still smiling, Sulpicia said, "Beau? Please step forward."

At hearing my name, Elena started. Her eyes flickered over our group, first coming to rest on Brenden, then finally on me. Even though my hood was up, I knew she could see my features clearly.

Tensing, I clutched Jules closer to my chest for a second. Then, slowly, I bent to the ground, and carefully laid her down, next to where Brenden stood. I took a slow step forward, passing between Tacita and Cato. I stood there awkwardly, arms dangling at my sides.

"What do you see?" Sulpicia murmured. Her voice was suddenly low and eager.

Elena recovered from her brief moment of shock, and even though I knew she had to know exactly who I was, she didn't comment. Instead, she raised her eyes to my face, and studied me closely, squinting, as though trying to make something out. Then at last she sighed and shook her head.

"He's certainly a shield," she answered. "But beyond that, I can't see anything about his power. His ability is blocking mine—it must be a powerful one."

Sulpicia nodded. "I suspected as much. So far, he's proven capable of blocking out almost any gift that affects the mind—my power, Cato and Tacita's powers, even Jonathan's had no effect. And that was while he was still human. As I told you, we must find out if, now that he has been turned, there's a possibility he may be able to share it with someone else."

Elena eyed me speculatively, but her eyes were doubtful. "Anything is possible. But, with a power this strong, it's also possible it could be like Jonathan's, and can only be focused on one subject at a time. But... with training, it's possible he might be able to do more."

Sulpicia nodded. "Indeed, that is what we must discover, which you and Kirill are uniquely gifted to help us do. You, Elena, are after all an expert when it comes to ferreting out the full potential of great talents. And you, Kirill..." Something changed subtly in her smile—a sudden unpleasant gleam in her milky eyes. Without turning her gaze, she reached out a hand to beckon me.

"Beau," Sulpicia said. "Will you come here for a moment? I would like you to shake Kirill's hand. After all, you will be working quite a bit together."

There seemed to be some other meaning in Sulpicia's words, something else she wanted to see. But I couldn't begin to guess what it was, and so I just shuffled forward.

I noticed Kirill looked uncomfortable and reluctant. His eyes flickered to Elena. However, she didn't give him any sort of sign, just kept her eyes on Sulpicia.

I came to a stop beside Sulpicia, and cautiously extended my hand. Kirill hesitantly stretched out his, but just before we made contact, Sulpicia looked up, and her smile widened slightly. "Ah, and here your friends come now."

Beneath the hum of the wind through the trees, I heard the quiet tamping of feet on stone, the whisper of near silent breathing. A moment later, a figure appeared over the ledge, coming to stand just on the edge. He casually swept his red-blond hair from his eyes to look at us. He stared at us for a long moment, taking us and our dark cloaks in, before he suddenly flashed a brilliant smile.

"Hey," Tanvir said brightly, giving a casual wave. "Sorry to crash the party. But, my plan worked—it looks as though we got ourselves invited."

A second later, two other figures appeared up over the edge of the cliff, coming to a stop on either side of their brother. One had dark hair and a chalky olive complexion like Elena's—Carlos—and the other was a vampire I had never seen before, with light blond hair like Kirill's. That could only be Ivan.

Neither was looking as relaxed or cheery as Tanvir. Carlos immediately started for Elena's side, though moving cautiously, eyes darting. Ivan didn't look quite as jumpy as Carlos, but as he scanned over us, he suddenly blinked in confusion, then tensed, eyes narrowing to slits.

It was startling to see the entire Denali clan, all here together. Especially considering Edythe wasn't here to meet them with me.

As I stared back at them, a sudden, dangerous thought struck me. They didn't know I was essentially being held prisoner here—if they did, would they be willing to help us? Even if Sulpicia herself knew how to fight, we would still have her and her guards outnumbered. Tanvir had said he regretted not aiding the Cullens in the fight against Victor. Would they be willing to help a Cullen now?

My eyes focused on Tanvir, the leader as Carine was for us. I wondered how I might go about signaling him. Of course, according to Sulpicia the entire world was liable to go up in flames without my help, but could I really trust that? I didn't doubt Sulpicia was used to telling all the lies she had to in order to get the results she wanted, and depending on what her actual goals were, I might find out I was helping her do something horrific. If I had the chance to get Jules and I away from these people, surely I had to try.

Still, I hesitated a moment. While I stood irresolute, Tanvir caught my gaze and gave a broad grin.

"So," he said, "you're one of us now. Nice. I figured Edy would have to change you soon. Where is she? You didn't leave her alone on your honeymoon, did you? She has a tendency to get lonely, you know. What if someone else comes along and snatches her up?"

I stared back at Tanvir's perfect gleaming smile, so incongruous in this dark forest during this dark meeting. Dumb a thought as it was to be having at a time like this, I was suddenly glad that he was here and not with Edythe, trying to soothe her broken heart.

"Is something wrong?" Sulpicia asked politely.

For a second I thought she was talking to me, but when I glanced back I noticed her gaze was on Ivan. He was bent nearly double, nostrils flared.

Tanvir casually reached over and gripped his brother's shoulder. "Come on, Ive. Don't be rude." Though his voice was still cheerful, for the first time, I detected tension in his frame. He wasn't quite so cool around the Volturi as he was pretending.

"That's quite all right," Sulpicia said generously. She smiled. "What's wrong, Ivan?"

Ivan's eyes blazed, and a tremor ran through his frame. He was staring, not at the Volturi, but a spot just beyond us—the spot, I suddenly realized, where I had left Jules.

Sulpicia paused, evidently realizing the source of Ivan's demeanor as well, if she hadn't already known it all along. With a dismissive wave she said airily, "This one's just here to help with Beau's training as well." She added pointedly, "She is also a friend of the Cullens."

Ivan didn't respond. His eyes never moved.

Not all that long ago, the wolf pack had killed a vampire named Lauren, who had been about to eat me. However, Lauren had been staying with the Denalis for a time, and it turned out that Ivan had gotten himself involved with her. As a result, when the Cullens had asked for help in the battle against Victor and his army of newborns, they had said they would only if the Cullens granted them permission to hunt the wolves as vengeance. Of course Carine wasn't about to agree to that.

It had seemed easy to forgive them back at the wedding when Tanvir was apologizing. But here, now, with Jules lying not ten feet away, defenseless—

I felt myself go very still. I stared back at Ivan, watching his every twitch.

And then, as though she sensed the atmosphere, as though intentionally meaning to time it exactly wrong, Jules gave a muffled groan in the grass behind Tacita and Cato. Holding her head as though from a hangover, she sat up and opened her eyes blearily.

Everything was still for a long, frozen moment.

Jules stared back—and then she was instantly in a crouch. Her eyes darted wildly about the clearing, her every feature on high alert.

Tacita and Cato both tensed, and Brenden raised his arms partway, perhaps preparing to cast one of his bubble shield-cages around her. However, after a long moment of silence, to my shock, Jules slowly relaxed.

Jules threw herself back down on the ground, sprawling herself out, propping her head up on one arm like she was back at home at La Push, lounging on the floor in front of the television. Her eyelids sank, unimpressed.

"Wow," she drawled. "A surprise party. You really shouldn't have. I mean, I didn't even have a chance to get my makeup ready."

Tacita's mouth was razor thin, as though she had been putting up with this for awhile. Cato sighed.

A hiss escaped from between Ivan's teeth. His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles showing white through the skin. He said, lips barely moving, "That—thing. It's one—one of those that killed her. Lauren."

Tanvir's grip on his brother's shoulder tightened. "It's okay, Ive," he said quietly. "Keep it cool."

Ivan's posture didn't change, his furious eyes never moving from Jules.

"Hmm, Lauren," Jules said lazily, cleaning out her ear with a pinkie. "Why does that name sound familiar?"

She examined the wax on her little finger before flicking it away, then squinted at Ivan. "Yellow eyes, huh? Then that must make you... annoying, apparently do-gooding bloodsucker nest number two. Except, of course, when your mates come down into our territory to pick people off for a snack. Oh yeah, it's coming back to me now. Not much of a runner, Lauren, didn't give us much of a chase. She was quite a screamer, though." The corner of her lip twitched in a nasty half-smile.

Ivan gave a wild, animalistic howl of rage, and before anyone could think to react, he ripped free from Tanvir's grip and hurled himself across the clearing, straight at Jules, heedless of the Volturi guards standing in his way.

Elena looked on with shock and horror, while Tanvir and Kirill both lurched forward, arms out to try to stop him.

However, neither of them reacted as fast as I did. Before Jules had even finished speaking, I saw what was coming, and in an instant I was there.

Ivan was so focused on Jules he didn't see me coming, and didn't so much as raise an arm to defend himself before I struck him hard. A single, lightning fast punch to the gut.

His body snapped back so fast when his back struck stone the rock crumpled beneath him like drywall. He skid along the edge of the cliff, kicking up dust and chips of stone in his wake. He hadn't even come to a stop when I launched myself after him, wild snarl echoing off the cliff faces, all thought forced from my mind by the overwhelming instinct to fight, and win.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw motion—Kirill wasn't going to let me attack his brother without responding. I paused and started to turn, readying myself for a rain of blows too fast to block, but Kirill only reached out to lightly brush one of my exposed wrists. Was that really the best he could do?

The long sleeves of my cloak swirling around me, I stretched out with both hands and shoved Kirill hard in the chest. Surprise flitted across his face—a second before he flew back, as hard and far as if he had been hit by a truck. His back struck a tree on the edge of the forest a hundred yards away, and the trunk split with a resounding crack.

Ivan was on his feet again. His eyes were wide, and he looked nearly demented. He seemed to realize the only way he was getting at Jules was through me.

Elena was shouting something at him, her face taut with mingled anger and terror. But Ivan was beyond reason. With a feral roar, he took off straight for me.

I couldn't believe that it had dissolved into a fight so quickly. Even less that, a moment before, I had almost been hoping for one, and hoping to help the Denali triumph. Now I couldn't afford to let that happen. If the Denali won out, I didn't know what would happen to Jules—maybe Tanvir and the others had apologized, but I knew that was only because they wanted to be reconciled with the Cullens. Their grudge against the wolves was far from gone. Jules's chances with the Volturi might not be good, but they were better than with the Denali.

Kirill was up, and he came charging back in a blur.

My head snapped back, and as Ivan came barreling at me from one side, Kirill from the other, I saw out of the corner of my eye both Tanvir and Carlos stepping forward too, in spite of Elena's increasingly urgent, pleading shouts for them to stand down. They seemed to realize there was little hope of diplomacy to smooth this out now. I backed up a step, eyes darting, trying to calculate who best to focus on.

I whirled to face Ivan. Kirill had barely touched me before when he'd had the opening, and so I hoped maybe he might be some sort of pacifist as well as vegetarian, or at least more reluctant to fight a Cullen. However, that didn't change the centuries experience gap between me and any member of the Denali coven. I knew without the element of surprise I probably didn't stand a chance. Yet, I raised my arms anyway—if I couldn't protect Jules, at least I'd go down fighting.

For one brief second, out of the corner of my eye I noticed Sulpicia for the first time, still standing next to a horrified Elena. Her features were, as always, perfectly serene.

As Ivan bore down on me, face contorted with fury, two figures suddenly appeared on either side of me, as though teleported there by magic—Cato and Tacita.

Cato lunged first, straight for Kirill, while Tacita readied to handle Ivan. In the heat of battle, I'd almost forgotten them.

While they were occupied, I turned my attention to Carlos and Tanvir. Elena had now physically seized Carlos about the neck, and with effort was holding him back. However, Tanvir was still free, and he had started toward us, more cautiously than Kirill, but mouth set in a firm line of determination.

I spun for him, launching myself forward—only to have my forhead slam into something hard.

I was thrown back a foot, and I snarled furiously in confusion until I realized I could just make out something in the air—a curve of something like glass.

I turned to see Brenden standing just behind me. His eyes were slightly wider than usual as he watched the battle. Like me, he was new, and obviously didn't consider himself one of the fighters of the guard.

"Let me out!" I snarled at him. I didn't see either Sulpicia or Renatus stepping in, and without them it was three on two, four if Carlos managed to get away from Elena, and more still if Elena realized there was no other way to save her coven than to fight. And even if Cato and Tacita could handle it, all it would take was Ivan slipping through for a second to get at Jules. However, Brenden acted as though he couldn't hear me, just kept his eyes on the battle.

I turned just in time to see Cato make contact with Kirill. Kirill stretched out one hand, and though he seemed to barely brush Cato's exposed hand, I watched with horror as Cato dropped instantly like a stone, twitching, face contorted in pain.

Tacita was alone now, three on one. Carlos was struggling, desperately trying to join his brothers, but Elena had him in a chokehold and, having abandoned all composure, was screaming at the others in a rapid mix of English and Spanish.

I pounded a fist against my prison in frustration, as the three closed in on Tacita, who was still facing Ivan.

I felt something icy plunge into my stomach. _Jules_, I thought.

However, Sulpicia, standing off to one side, still looked completely unconcerned. She only sighed a little, like a mother watching her misbehaving children.

My eyes went back to Tacita.

The entirety of this fight had barely taken seconds, from the time it had exploded to now. Yet I hadn't had trouble following it. In an instant, that changed.

My new vampire eyes were sharp enough to pick out the single flap of a hummingbird's wings, the fall of each individual raindrop in a rainstorm. But when Tacita moved, she was little more than a streak of black.

Ivan had raised his arms to strike, but suddenly Tacita was in front of him. Tacita seized him by both arms and, so fast I could barely follow it, with a single powerful kick to his chest ripped both arms free from their sockets.

She didn't stop there. In the same movement, she spun on Kirill and, though he stretched out a hand to touch her as he had Cato, she ducked beneath him and instead used his brother's arms like weapons, first striking Kirill on the back of his neck, driving him to his knees, and following up with another blow to his back, making him collapse to the ground.

Tacita turned toward Tanvir next, her grotesque tools still dangling in her hands. Tanvir, still some distance away, halted his advance. Instead, he backed up a step, hands raised.

Sulpicia said mildly, "In terms of skilled fighters, you might think you have us outnumbered—a miscalculation, if so. But you should know I count Tacita as three of any of my guard. Tacita's sense of tracking is so precise at this range that she could disbatch all three of you with her eyes closed. So you might do well to take that into consideration."

Meanwhile, Cato had gotten back to his feet.

Carlos, who had been fighting to pull free of Elena's grip, had stopped moving. Tanvir backed up another couple of steps. Ivan was on his knees, and though the mad fury had not left his face, it was now mixed with pain, and he didn't try to move. Kirill climbed gingerly to his feet, but he kept his eyes down, and his will to fight seemed sapped out of him.

"Good," said Sulpicia, sighing a little. "I'm glad we have that settled." Her eyes shifted to Tacita.

Tacita turned toward where Ivan knelt, standing over him. In one movement, she let both his arms drop twitching to the stone on either side of her. Then, in a swift motion she produced something from inside the folds of her cloak. It flashed silver in the sunlight.

Elena let out a low, desperate cry, and Kirill's listless frame suddenly tensed again. However, Cato stepped sideways to block him, this time concealing his hands inside the sleeves of his cloak to avoid skin contact.

"Please," Elena whispered, turning to Sulpicia, head bowed. "My lady, you must understand... losing a mate... he's not been rational. Please..."

I realized what the glint of silver was, and I felt something cold drop in my stomach. I hadn't wanted the Denalis to win, for Jules to die at Ivan's hands. But I didn't want this either. I didn't know any of them well, and had never seen Ivan before today—but I was a Cullen, and they were all family.

Tacita flicked the lighter open in a single practiced movement, and a tiny flame appeared—all that was necessary to set the exposed venom of a dismembered immortal alight and burn them to ashes. She raised it above Ivan's head, but did not bring it close enough to begin the process. Waiting for the final signal from Sulpicia.

Ivan didn't even look at Tacita, or try to move from where he knelt. Instead, he turned his head slightly to stare across the stone to Jules once again. His mouth twisted with the regret of unfulfilled vengeance.

"Please," Elena whispered.

Sulpicia was studying Ivan with a thoughtful expression. She exhaled softly, then murmured, "It is not an easy thing to lose a mate."

Then she added, in a voice still gentle, yet chilly as a winter frost, "But the madness of loss cannot be an excuse for injustice. He has attempted to kill a creature that is a friend of the Cullens, who destroyed his treacherous mate who meant to violate the oath of your clan, in the process raising his hand even against us—heedlessly exposing his own coven to our retribution. That is a type of selfishness that has no cure. For there to be no answering payment, no justice—that would leave open the door to chaos."

Her misty eyes gazed long at Ivan's bent form as she added, sighing, "Such a shame, that history must repeat itself. Your father died for an undeserving, misplaced love. I wish you might have learned the lesson. Be glad, Ivan, I will forgive the rest of your coven their loyalty to you."

Ivan didn't react. Some of the fury had faded from his features, but he betrayed no sign of fear. His back straightened, even as he dipped his head a little in acceptance. His eyes found Tanvir's for a moment, and he shook his head once very slightly to the side—as though to tell him not to strike out in vengeance when it was done.

Tacita raised the flame.

"Wait."

All eyes turned toward me. Swallowing, trying to inject more calm reason than I felt into my tone, I repeated, "Wait, you can't kill him."

Sulpicia closed her eyes briefly, as though hearing the one thing she had dreaded. Then, to my surprise, she abruptly raised a hand. Tacita halted, lighter still in hand.

Sulpicia turned reluctantly to look at me. Her face was smooth, yet something seemed to flash beneath the surface, like a simmering volcano. In a careful, measured voice, she said softly, "Can't I?"

I hesitated. I knew I was talking to the vampire who had ruled vampire kind for a thousand years, meting out justice as she saw fit, who commanded armies and wielded powers in complex political games beyond my comprehension. Rationally, I knew I couldn't touch that. But the Denalis were family, and I had to try.

"You need us," I said, grasping at anything. I glanced meaningfully back at Elena, then Kirill. "Need them. You can't afford to do something that might make messy emotions get in the way. Not now."

Sulpicia stared back at me for a long moment. The seconds seemed to stretch on and on, longer even than the hours trapped in the car with the sound of Jules's beating heart and my blazing thirst. However, she never once even glanced at Elena or Kirill, only me. At last she said softly, coolly, "Then what would you propose?"

I paused, too surprised to answer immediately. I hadn't expected to get this far. I slowly turned my eyes back to Ivan.

"I feel bad for you," I said to him at last. "Maybe if I were in your place, I would be the crazy one. But the truth is there wasn't a choice what happened, the wolves were just doing their jobs. If you leave here, then—then if you ever try that again, I'll kill you myself."

Ivan hadn't turned his head, but he was watching me out of the corner of his eye. His gaze shifted to Jules once again for a second, and his eyes narrowed with loathing. But then his eyes returned to me, and I thought I saw his head dip slightly, the barest hint of a nod.

Sulpicia glanced at Ivan once, before her gaze returned to me. Calculations seemed to whirr at lightning speed behind her milky eyes. At long last, she made a sharp gesture at Tacita.

Kirill snarled, while Tanvir gave a half-lurch forward, eyes wide.

But Tacita only raised a foot and kicked Ivan hard in the chest.

He collapsed on his back, armless unable to catch himself, or maybe he didn't try. A cloud of dust kicked up behind him as Tacita replaced the lighter in her cloak as quickly as it had appeared.

"Go, then," said Sulpicia, mouth tightening slightly with distaste. "It would seem that circumstances have conspired to save you. I hope you will use this second chance wisely."

Elena was almost crying with relief. Carlos, letting out a long, heavy breath, placed a comforting arm around her shoulders, and Kirill sagged where he stood.

Tanvir, taking a shakey breath, cautiously stepped forward. Never taking his eyes off Tacita, he gingerly retrieved Ivan's arms and made his way around to Ivan's side. He put an arm around Ivan's shoulders. Tacita watched them with cold, hard eyes.

"We'll... we'll just go then," Tanvir said, trying to force one of his jovial smiles. "Sorry for the trouble. Really sorry. Guess not one of my brightest ideas."

Carlos also hesitantly took a step back, reluctantly disengaging himself from his mate. Elena seemed to have recovered herself, though her face was still pale.

"Carlos," Sulpicia said suddenly, abruptly. He froze.

She turned her eyes to him, then said politely, "If you wouldn't mind, I would appreciate if you would go retrieve something to eat and bring it back here. Something one of your diet would like." She glanced briefly at me. "He is still new, and has not had the opportunity to feed in some time."

Carlos blinked, clearly still dazed after everything that had happened. However, at last he nodded once, then more vigorously. Glancing once at Elena, who nodded at him, he gave a hasty bow and then turned and disappeared into the forest.

Tanvir had gotten Ivan to his feet. Still holding one of Ivan's arms in each hand, he drew Ivan toward the forest line. Ivan hesitated a moment, and his eyes returned toward Jules briefly. Then he shook his head and turned away. Walking stiffly, though quickly, he followed Tanvir's lead, and soon they were gone.

A brief silence followed. Only to be interrupted by the last person who should have been talking.

"Well," Jules commented, raising a hand as though to stifle a yawn. "That was entertaining. Don't mind me, you all just go on trying to kill each other." Unbelievably, all through the fight, Jules had not moved an inch from where she lay.

Elena, who had been looking at Sulpicia, now turned her eyes slowly to Jules. Though her face remained smooth, I saw the muscles in her jaw tighten ever so slightly. Kirill's expression wasn't quite so subtle—his lip curled back from his teeth, the skin between his eyes buckling with suppressed fury. What had almost happened might not have happened at all without Jules doing her level best to push Ivan over the edge.

"I'm kind of disappointed right now, actually," Jules continued, oblivious to the sets of resentful eyes now watching her. "I mean, I consider testing leech's limits kind of my thing, but blondie's limits weren't high at all. He went and got his arms ripped off before I even got to tell him her last words."

Kirill's eyes narrowed dangerously, fists clenching convulsively at his sides, and I was sure it was only Tacita standing just a few feet away that stopped him launching himself at her just as Ivan had.

I glanced back at Jules, wishing I could somehow signal to her to stop talking. It was like she was trying to get her head ripped off. But, that was Jules for you, she wasn't going to cower in fear for anybody. She wouldn't take any advice—even if she had known who I was.

Sulpicia was still staring after the place where Ivan had gone, expression hard to read. "Leniency," she murmured, mouth twisting with distaste. "The greatest injustice of all." Then at last her gaze shifted to where I stood. She seemed to be talking more to herself than to me as she continued softly, "But for the sake of the greater objective, I suppose compromises must be made. And if the drive for vengeance does propel him to action again, I do not think I will be the one to regret it most."

I stared back at her unblinking, and didn't reply. However, I knew what she meant. Ivan had nodded his head at my words, but that didn't mean he agreed not to hunt the wolves again. He had nodded that he accepted that if he tried to kill the wolves, I would kill him. Which might still be a trade he was willing to make. By stepping in for Ivan, I'd kept the Cullen's sister coven intact, but Jules might still someday be in danger, or the rest of her sisters.

Still, I didn't regret it. I was glad to have helped save someone, and if Ivan did someday decide to cross me again, well, I'd cross that bridge when I came to it. If Jules and I were even still alive to worry about it then.

At long last, I turned slowly to face Jules. Counting the Denalis, I was just one of many new leeches she had seen today, and even without my Volturi hood, I barely resembled my old human self. With the immediate crisis averted, I knew I had to make a decision. To help Jules see who I was—or not.

I was the monster she'd been dreading, and she had just had a first-row seat to just how inhuman I was. I couldn't imagine what it would do to her to know the old Beau was gone, ahead of schedule, before she'd even had a chance to say goodbye.

It would be easy to spare her for the moment, until this was all over and done—all I'd need to do was turn and tell her a name, any name. I didn't doubt Sulpicia would follow my lead, if just to keep the peace. That would be the easiest thing on her right now; leave the truth until she had better time and space to deal with it properly, away from all this.

"_Better scared,"_ whispered Jules's voice in the back of mind, _"than lied to."_

I took a deep breath, and her burning, foul odor scorched down my nose. Of course, I already knew what Jules would do if our positions were reversed, what she would say if she had the choice. And so there was really only one option.

Brenden had already backed up from me, and was standing beside Jules again. I supposed to put up a barrier if she got ideas about trying to fight or get away.

I stared back down into her face. Though her posture was still relaxed, laying sprawled on her side with her head propped up on one hand, her eyes were tight, and her jaw betrayed just a hint of strain. She was a good actor, but it was an effort keep up this blasé and careless facade surrounded by vampires. There were dark circles beneath her eyes as though she hadn't slept in days, and the angles of her face were sharper than usual with lack of sustenance. I hated seeing her like this—and yet, she was still managing to find ways to strike back, even as a prisoner surrounded by vampires. She was still every bit the Jules I knew, and in that thought I felt a surge of unexpected warmth.

Jules noticed me staring at her and, lip curling, she eyed me up and down. "What?" she said. "You got something to say? If the queen was going to go out and pick up more spooky guards while I was out, I kind of thought she'd go for someone a little more impressive. Not much of a fighter, are you? Jacie Chan over there had to do all the work. I'd peg you as a little old adviser, but you don't look like you have brains enough to change a light bulb by yourself, let alone tell the queen of darkness anything she doesn't already know."

I had to bite back a laugh. Getting under vampire skin really was Jules's specialty. However, this wasn't a joke, and I forced my face back to neutral, my expression solemn. I took a couple steps closer.

"I'm not a guard," I said in a low voice. "I'm a prisoner, like you."

I knew she wouldn't recognize my voice, it was nothing like my old one had been. Yet I found myself holding my breath anyway.

However, her lip only rose another centimeter.

"Oh, poor you," she sneered. "So that's why you got all miffed when blondie wanted to take a bite out of me. You thought you were going to get a fluffy new pet. And if we get away, we'll just run off into the sunset and play fetch together. That it, leech?"

I crouched down in front of her. In a quick motion, I drew back my hood.

For a long moment I just stared at her, unspeaking. I wondered if she could possibly recognize me like this—it was stupid to expect her to, with my alabaster-white skin and vivid crimson eyes, but for some reason, some part of me hoped she would. That there was still enough left of the old me for her to pick out.

"What?" Jules said again, and for the first time she looked a bit unnerved. She pushed herself up on her arm, so that she could lean away from me. She eyed me suspiciously. "If you're expecting some kind of weird, prisoner-bonding thing to happen, you might as well save yourself the disappointment."

I didn't reply, just stayed crouched where I was. I folded my arms in front of me, letting the sleeves of my cloak fall against the ground. I hated it that I had to tell her this in front of all the others. This felt like it ought to be a private moment, so Jules could react however she felt like, without an audience of crimson eyes. But the most I could do was pretend the others weren't there—that it was just her and me.

Jules seemed slightly irritated now. "Get lost," she said. She waved her hands at me, like she might to scare off a stray dog. "Shoo."

I shifted my crouch to sit cross-legged on the ground instead. Not because I was uncomfortable—I could have crouched like that all day. However, I wanted to signal somehow that I wasn't going anywhere.

"Do you have a problem?" Jules asked, mouth twisting. "You know, I've never met a clingy bloodsucker before."

I knew I wasn't doing her any favors drawing this out. She had to come around to the truth sometime. However, her disinterested sarcasm was better than what was probably coming—shock, horror, pain.

I gave a very slight shrug of my shoulders. "First time for everything."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "I can see why the queen of darkness wouldn't want you for a guard. You're kind of pathetic."

I shrugged again. "Yeah, I guess I am."

"Most pathetic vampire I ever saw."

"Probably."

"Probably get your arms ripped off in a fight faster than crazy-blondie."

"Yeah."

"And grovel on the ground if they so much as tweaked your pinkie finger."

"Guess so."

Jules's eyes narrowed further. Her mouth was pursed. "You don't even know what I am, do you?"

"A werewolf?" I guessed.

She raised an eyebrow. "And mortal enemies."

"I don't think it has to be that way."

She let out a half laugh of disbelief—and then she froze.

She stared at me for a long moment. Then, very slowly, she shifted her legs beneath her, and climbed unsteadily to her feet. She took a staggering step back.

"No," she whispered.

I didn't answer.

Her face was ashen, the muscles completely slack. "No," she repeated, louder this time.

Still I said nothing. My eyes dropped.

I heard, rather than saw her move. I heard the whistle of air past her body as she launched herself forward. She moved faster than a normal human, but I could have dodged her if I chose. Instead, I let myself fall backwards as I felt her slam into me. And I didn't resist, as I felt her hands close around my throat.

Tacita and Cato both tensed, but I saw out of the corner of my eye Sulpicia raise a hand to signal them to stay back. However, Brenden stepped forward, and I realized I could just make out the faint outline of a clear barrier behind Jules's back, and I realized how it was they had kept her from transforming from the moment she awoke—if she tried to change in a space this small, she would be crushed.

I felt the muscles in her hands and forearms strain at my hard neck—as a human, she didn't have a hope of hurting me, let alone suffocate me.

"You," she whispered. Her voice was shaking. "You—what did you do?"

I let myself stay completely limp, though my vampire instincts were raging at me to take some defensive action—inside Brenden's small capsule, her burning scent was nearly overpowering, trying to fill me with all the primal rage born of a centuries-old antagonism.

"I think you know," I said softly. Though her hands were around my throat, and she was squeezing as hard as she could, my vocal cords were unaffected. She might as well have been holding a column of solid stone.

She gritted her teeth and bent so our faces were inches apart. In the shadow, her eyes were solid black.

"Sorry," I whispered.

She stared down at me for a long moment. And then a short, sharp sound escaped her mouth—a sob.

She released my neck, and staggered back, until her back struck the barrier with a dull thud. She slumped forward, and pressed her hands to her face.

I slowly sat up. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to touch her arm, her shoulder—anything to comfort her, just like I used to, the way she would comfort me. But I knew that wouldn't do her any good now. Nothing was going to make this better.

They all watched us as Jules struggled to get her breathing under control. I wanted to tell them to go away, to leave us alone and mind their own business. But I just continued to ignore them, giving Jules all my attention.

Finally, she let her hands drop, and when she did, she stared at me with eyes flat and dead.

"I don't believe this," she said. "I really don't."

"Sorry," I said again. I didn't know what else to say.

She shook her head. "I thought there was still time."

"There was. But some things happened." I glanced once in Sulpicia's direction. She was watching us placidly.

Jules followed my look, eyes briefly circling around to the others, but if she cared that she was forced to have this audience, she didn't show it. She looked supremely uninterested in any of them. Her eyes finally returned to me.

"Where's your vampire girl?" she asked. "Didn't she come with you?"

I wasn't exactly sure how to explain everything that had happened very succinctly.

"I had to leave her behind," I said quietly at last. "I told you, I'm a prisoner too."

Jules stared back at me for a long moment. She was studying my face closely, as though reading it all in my expression alone. Then, with a deep sigh, she suddenly stretched out her legs—narrowly avoiding kicking me in the stomach—and laced her hands behind her head.

"So," she said, and her voice was abruptly casual. "How many?"

I frowned a little, eying her uncertainly. "How many what?"

"People have you killed so far."

I really did frown then. "None. I'm a vegetarian, remember?"

She rolled her eyes. "Sure you are."

Her gaze went back to me, and she studied me speculatively. Very slowly, she shifted around, so she was sitting on her knees. She leaned forward, until I felt her beating heart close to mine, her face inches away. Then, very deliberately, she breathed right into my face.

"Tell me," she said softly, and to my shock, a hint of a grin played about her mouth, "do you want to eat me right now?"

I nearly wretched at the sudden concentrated smell. "No," I said honestly, wrinkling my nose and trying not to breathe in. "In fact, you're kind of killing my appetite."

Unexpectedly, she laughed. "That bad, huh?"

I nodded. "That bad."

"Well, you don't smell so good yourself. Give me a basket of rotting eggs, carrion, and skunk any day."

"Thanks," I muttered.

She was still leaning in close, too close for comfort, but I didn't lean away as her smile faded, and she seemed to be studying me closely. At last, she pulled back, arms folded.

"What?" I asked.

She tilted her head to one side. "It's just, minus the smell, you actually don't seem that different. I wasn't really expecting that."

I didn't answer. I hoped she never saw me when I got downwind of a hiker.

Someone cleared their throat loudly. I didn't have to look to know it was Kirill.

"I thought we were on some kind of deadline," he said. Hey eyed the two of us with purest contempt. "Or are we going to stand around watching your new recruit flirt with this thing all day?"

I felt myself bristle slightly, but Jules didn't seem bothered. In fact, she grinned. She leaned over, throwing a casual arm around my neck. Her skin blazed against mine, so hot it almost burned.

"What?" she taunted. "Does this bother you, blondie? Get used to it, werewolf-bloodsucker friendship, it's a beautiful thing."

Kirill's eyes narrowed, and he looked at me with accusation and suspicion.

"All right then," said Sulpicia, evidently deciding to intervene before Jules could start any more fights. Her irritation over the Ivan episode seemed to have faded, and she was back her usual smiling, unflappable self. "Now that that's all taken care of, Kirill is right, I think it about time we begin."

Jules let go of my neck—I figured the touch of my skin must be as uncomfortable to her as to me—and turned her head to catch my eye. "Started?"

I nodded. "I guess they're going to be training me for something."

Jules pursed her lips. "For what?"

I shrugged. "They want me to help them fight this rebellion they've got to put down."

Jules snorted. "Fight a rebellion? _You_? Talk about delusions. You might be a bloodsucker now, but I bet your girlfriend could beat you up any day of the week. Even Sarah could beat you up."

I folded my arms. I wanted to point out how I'd taken both Ivan and Kirill down moments ago, however briefly, but decided it was better not to antagonize Kirill any more than we already had, and I didn't want to sound like a kid.

"I'm not going to be fighting," I explained instead. "Something to do with that thing I do, blocking Edythe out. I'm supposed to learn how to block other people too." I paused, then added more quietly, "And she's not my girlfriend anymore."

"Right," she said. "Course you're already married." She glanced down at my hand, then frowned when she found my ring finger bare.

I nodded slowly. "Yeah. And... I've already left her." My voice was low. As I said it, I wished I hadn't. The crimson eyes were still watching us, and I didn't need this audience to my pain. But I couldn't keep the hollowness out of my voice.

Jules eyed me for a long moment. Her gaze flickered briefly to Sulpicia before returning to me. She nodded once, slowly, seemingly somehow to guess at what had happened, to digest the parts of the story I wasn't saying. The clearing was silent for a long minute.

Sulpicia seemed to decide she had left us enough time to catch up. She gazed out at the forest in the direction Carlos had gone for a moment, thoughtful, then said, "Perhaps we ought to begin now. If you think you can muster the concentration."

I glanced back at her. I hesitated, then shrugged one shoulder. My entire head felt like it was on fire, my mouth a scorched desert. Someone might have been shoving hot irons down my throat for all the pain I was in, and when I thought about the possibility of quenching the thirst, it became nearly unendurable. Yet at the same time, I'd been learning to live with it. When I had something else to focus on—like Jules being in danger, or what I had done to Edythe—I could almost forget about it for seconds at a time.

"I can try."

Sulpicia nodded. "Good. Excellent. Time grows short. If we are to hope to stop Dante De Luca before he makes his move, we must condense what would normally be months of careful conditioning into a matter of days—fortunately, I believe we have all the tools we will need." Perhaps I was imagining it, but I thought her milky eyes lingered just a little too long on Jules as she said that. But then her gaze returned to me and she added, "And given that I am sure that Edythe Cullen has by now worked out the true state of affairs, she will likely be in pursuit of us as well. That is a confrontation I would prefer to avoid, and I'm sure you would as well."

I glanced at her, surprised. In my head, I'd been picturing Edythe still standing in that forest, stunned at what I had done to her—but then, Sulpicia had called her to force her to change me. Maybe Edythe had already realized that couldn't be a coincidence. The thought that she didn't have to think I didn't love her—that I hadn't abandoned her by choice—felt like a sudden weight lifted off my shoulders. I almost could have cried—and yet I suddenly felt cold. Cold at the thought of Edythe really catching up to us. Fighting Tacita.

A shudder wracked my frame. More to reassure myself than anything, I heard myself saying aloud, "Because you couldn't afford to hurt her." Sulpicia needed my cooperation—I didn't want to push my luck, but if that was a bargain chip I had, I was going to use it for all it was worth.

Sulpicia nodded slowly. "That," she said lightly, "and I don't particularly want to face Edythe Cullen as an enemy at present. She could very well be as dangerous as Dante De Luca, in the end."

I stared back at her for a long moment, not sure what to think—if Sulpicia, ruler of all vampires, really thought that. I doubted it.

Sulpicia raised a hand to signal the others, and Tacita and Cato both stepped forward as one. Elena and Kirill watched from the background with uncertainty, their faces grim.

Sulpicia smiled softly. "Then let us begin."

* * *

A/N: A long one this time, and a lot of reworking. I think it turned out better than I was afraid it would, but I do hope not every chapter turns this intense in the editing phase.

As always, thank you all so much for reading, the world is still crazy but it's nice to have something else to work and focus on. If you have a moment, let me know what you thought, and hope to see you all next time!

Posted 4/27/20


	15. Lion

A/N: Back!

Tough chapter this time. (New settings, new characters. If you get confused on any of the names or who's who in relation to the original Breaking Dawn, there will be an author's note at the end with a bit of background.) It's also unfortunately possible that some of these coming chapters may start taking me longer than the usual four weeks—but more on that at the end.

On an up note, we also have some major good news this time, thanks very much to the reviewer who alerted me. It seems that Stephanie Meyer decided to finish Midnight Sun after all—it's due to come out this August. I definitely didn't see this one coming, I'm so curious to see how different it will be from the rough draft, and how she finishes it all up. (As to the question of whether I'll finish my version of Midnight Sun now, based on what I have done up to this point it's unlikely, but still up in the air.)

Thanks so much for all your thoughts last chapter! Hope you'll enjoy this one, and see you at the end!

* * *

Chapter 14: Lion

**Edythe**

"_You think you know where Jules is?"_

"_Yes. She's been taken by the worst of our kind—and Beau now, too. But I'm going to do everything I can to bring them back, Sarah. I promise."_

"_Keep us posted, Edythe. Let us know how we can help."_

"_I will."_

Night had fallen when our plane finally touched down at the airport. Just the way I'd had to time it—after all, one didn't get too many overcast days in the middle of late summer in Cairo, Egypt.

I was glad to have touched base with Sarah; at least now the wolves would have an idea of what was going on. Apparently Sam had already set out with Lee and Quil to look for Jules. I wished now I hadn't mentioned that it would all be happening in Europe, thereby giving them an idea of where to find us if they got ideas about taking action themselves, but there was nothing to be done about it now. However, at least I could hope they would be so focused on hoping to get Jules back they wouldn't consider seeking retribution for the breaking of the treaty—now that Beau was a vampire.

Grateful for the semester of Arabic I had taken back at Yale, I instructed the taxi driver where I wanted him to take me, handing him a rather large bill that made his eyes widen slightly, before I settled back into the backseat to think, and allowed my thoughts to race ahead.

Carine's acquaintances would take some convincing to help me. Although this coven's leader resented Sulpicia and the reign of the Volturi, I'd gotten the sense from Carine he valued his own skin too highly to ever come to the aid of a friend if it involved any risk to himself, let alone a friend of a friend.

Amun, perhaps the oldest vampire still in existence, and his original coven had once ruled Egypt as gods. But when the Volturi had decimated the Romanians, the most powerful and vicious coven of the time, Amun had seen the writing on the wall and abandoned his coven to save himself. Now I would have to be careful how I presented my case.

It was time to finally test the limits of my gift. To use its every advantage to its fullest extent, in a way I had held back from doing in the past. It was easy to guess what Amun desired most, and feared most—but often there could be a thousand facets to those broad feelings, and it was in their specificity that I could find the way to soothe his complaints, his anxieties.

Or so I hoped.

I gazed vaguely out the window as we passed over the great Nile River, and the imposing buildings and bright lights of the city of Cairo faded behind us. At last my eyes fell on the sight of three vast pyramids that towered over the landscape, surrounded by a smattering of smaller pyramids. Structures that the Egyptian coven of old had seen built, but existed at least a thousand years before Sulpicia and the Volturi were even thought of.

I felt my fingers curl in on themselves. It was a majestic sight—if I was successful, if I saved Beau and we were able to go back home together, I would have to bring him here someday.

Amidst the miles of barren sands, a broad patch of green became visible ahead, and the old taxi lurched to a stop just at the hotel entrance. I handed the driver a couple crisp bills—I had promised double the pay if he could get me here in half the time, and he had delivered. He accepted the American currency without question, and eagerly jumped out to retrieve the luggage I had brought along as a prop.

I started for the entrance, toting my bag along behind me, but the moment the taxi was gone I slipped around the side, disappearing amidst the lush greenery that surrounded the hotel on all sides.

The sky was dark overhead, dotted with stars, but though I could hear the mental voices of a few tourists still out wandering the expansive gardens, none noticed me through the heavy foliage in the darkness. I quickly cracked open my luggage case—I had bought it at the airport, packing it with a few ordinary essentials to avoid arousing suspicion if it was checked at airport security. However, it was the beige scarf I had bought at a shop at Egypt's Airmall along with a similarly colored dress that I was looking for.

I quickly drew the dress on over my clothes, then took the scarf and wrapped it around my head in the traditional hijab style. As a disguise it wouldn't pass any close inspection, but I wanted something that would allow me to travel during the day while blending in with the landscape and hiding the diamond-like shimmering of my skin in the sun, in case I didn't reach my destination before morning. The last thing I wanted was to get stranded somewhere until nightfall.

Darting quickly between palm trees and other vividly green, tropical plants, I made my way around the building, moving too fast to be seen by human eyes. Which was just as well—I was the very definition of a suspicious individual. If I was lucky, anyone who might catch a glimpse of me would just assume me to be a moonlighting American tourist, paying off some back-alley tour guide to take me up the side of the pyramid in the middle of the night—if I wasn't lucky, they might think me a terrorist.

As I raced across the empty sands, the lights of the hotel fading behind me, and I found a few stones under which to conceal my bag before going on, I thought about that. Terrorist—perhaps I was not of the human variety, but as far as vampires went, that may be exactly what I was becoming. I was, after all, planning to threaten the clan who were our government, our rulers, possibly fight them if I had to. I was a traitor, plotting revolution.

The thought made my stomach clench, my head spin. I had seen into the Volturi's thoughts, knew what they were beyond the image they liked to project—but even so, they were our rulers, our authority. I'd always considered myself a good citizen of sorts, at least in the vampire way, not a rebel.

However, I now shook my head. It was too late to be thinking about that. Saving Beau—that was what was important.

Drawing my scarf up over my nose and mouth to conceal as much skin as possible, I took off silently, sending up flecks of dust and sand in my wake.

* * *

Miles upon miles of sand dunes flashed by beneath my feet.

I was familiar with many of the great deserts of my country, everywhere from the Mojave desert with its sea of stubby Joshua trees, to the colder Great Basin Desert with its wall of mountains and ancient forests.

However, they were nothing to the unimaginable vastness of the Sahara. It extended nearly from one coast of Africa to other, with massive tracts of land so uninhabitable that nothing but the very hardiest of creatures could live there. For a human with ordinary senses, it might have felt entirely void of life.

I took only the vaguest note of the dietary options afforded by the local wildlife as I ran—nothing inspiring, the biggest mammals seemed to be Egyptian wild dogs and what I thought must be some sort of gazelle—focusing my sense of smell mainly on any hint of my kind.

Carine's thoughts on the location of these friends had not been precise enough to lead me directly to them. I knew the last time Carine had visited they resided within the borders of Egypt, in a south-westerly direction from Cairo. Amun considered the nomad way of life beneath him, and with how proud he had been of the home he and his coven had built, I could only hope he wouldn't have abandoned it. I would know soon enough—the most densely populated areas that would likely afford the best hunting would be along the Nile River, and if I were to catch the trail of one of the coven, it would surely be there.

I skirted the edge of the White Desert, with its chalky white stones rising in uneven shapes toward the sky. I could taste more wildlife here, but as our family kept away from national parks and particularly threatened species as a rule, I wouldn't be doing any hunting. I also tasted the scent of a few tourists, braving the chilly air of the Sahara's wild temperature swings to camp out amidst the geological wonders, and though I was not close enough to hear their thoughts, I circled out further to be safe.

It wasn't until I was passing by the edge of a small town and tourist hotspot, with its unique wells which supported a series of tropical trees, that I finally tasted the scent I was looking for—two scents.

A mated pair, if I wasn't mistaken. It was a bit of an older trail, but if they were the ones I was looking for, it still ought to lead back to their permanent residence. The rare rains of the Saharan summer would work in my favor.

Once again I took off, as swiftly and silently as a desert fox.

* * *

"_Someone's coming."_

The night was near giving way to dawn when my extra hearing picked up the voice, heard through the minds of at least two listeners. I had kept my extra hearing on hyper alert for hours to pick up every voice I could for miles, and this one came just at the very edge of my senses.

They were sheltered deep in an underground complex, and I caught glimpses of a modern room, couches decorated with elaborate mosaic patterns and a mahogany coffee table with a glass surface. Two females and a male.

I could not sense the thoughts of the leader Amun or his mate Kebi, but I knew immediately this was the coven I was looking for. One of the females reclining on one of the couches had perked up slightly at my approach—knowing exactly where I was in relation to them without any conscious effort.

I adjusted my direction, speeding across the sands like a silent bullet, kicking up sand and weathered bits of strangely translucent stone-like glass as I went. That I had been able to locate them within a single night was a miracle, but I didn't have a second to spare to marvel at my good fortune.

However, as I passed a jagged rock jutting toward the sky, I forced myself to slow. I couldn't afford to give the impression of being a hostile. I came to a stop on the edge of a small overhang, overlooking a maze of twisted dark rocks.

I proceeded warily—though I knew precisely where the entrance was from bits and pieces of information gleaned from the minds below, instead I followed the looping trail of the most recent of the scents, letting it guide my way. It wouldn't do to appear too informed.

All the while, I listened to the voices below.

"_She's not someone that we've met before,"_ the first voice said. _"But she knows Carine. Carine's essence is strong on her."_

"_We should go see what she wants," _said a second voice. This one was cheerful and vibrant, eager for any interruption to the daily monotony. _"She'll find us soon anyway. We shouldn't be rude."_

"_You know what Amun would say," _cautioned a third. _"We shouldn't take risks. Maybe I should go."_

This was answered with a laugh and affectionate kiss on the cheek. _"Since when do we listen to Amun?"_ said the cheerful one. _"Besides, you going up there alone? Sometimes, Tiam, I really think that between the two of us, you're the real thrill-seeker."_

I paused beside a large dome-shaped rock. As the two approached, the cheerful girl taking the lead and her wary mate following not far behind, I caught flashes of the smooth stone of underground hallways lined with torches and decorations of ivory and gold.

I felt the sand tremble slightly beneath my feet, and as the quiet sound of their tamping feet reached my ears, I turned just in time to see the dome-shaped rock shift aside, sending bits of sand cascading down into the black hole that suddenly appeared in the ground. I would have assumed a pair of pale hands had moved the stone from below—if I hadn't known better.

A head of black hair woven in a series of elaborate braids appeared briefly over the rim, a moment before she nimbly leaped high in the air, landing lightly on a tall hump of stone not far from where I stood.

"Hello there," she said, giving me a warm smile and half wave. "We heard company coming. We've had dinner already, but if you want to come in for a bit and chat, visitors are always welcome."

The girl's skin had a distinctly olive hue beneath the immortal pallor, and gold jewelry jangled from her neck and wrists. She moved with the kind of ease and carelessness that came of an unshakeable innate confidence. Every now and again, she reached up to toy with one of the many gold beads woven into her braided hair, only to toss them back over her shoulder, where they rested halfway down her back.

A moment later her mate appeared, the male Tiam. His hair was also dark, but cut short and combed perfectly straight in a more no-nonsense style. He wore no jewelry, save a thin gold necklace around his neck, half obscured by the collar of a light vest. He stopped to stand beside the stone on which the girl stood, half in front of her, like a guard. Their eyes both glowed a light crimson in the early morning darkness.

"What is your business here?" Tiam asked, his voice at once cautious and authoritative.

Before I could reply, the girl laughed. "Oh come on, Ti." She glanced back at me. "Sorry about him. He just worries too much."

She leaped down from the rock, and casually strolled past him, in spite of the disapproving tension in his rigid shoulders, and stopped in front of me. Though below I had caught glimpses of a great underground temple, with stone pillars and tapestries not unlike something out of the throne room of one of the ancient pharaohs, her clothes looked more suited to the first room. A fashionable scarf with elaborately woven patterns loosely hung about her neck, and she wore a dark V-neck with sleeves that cut off just past the elbow.

"What's your name?" she asked. "Mine's Brena. This is my mate, Tiam. He's not as stodgy as he likes to pretend. Like I said, we love visitors, but we don't get too many around here."

I listened to her speak, but even more I focused on the underlying thoughts behind them. That they liked visitors was not strictly true—Brena liked company, but Amun purposely discouraged other vampires and covens from coming anywhere near his territory, or even telling anyone precisely where they could found. The careless comment that they didn't get many visitors was certainly the case, but she meant it mainly as an invitation for me to tell my story of how I came to be here. They already knew I was connected to Carine somehow, but they would wait to see if I said as much.

The power of the one I hadn't met yet was truly astounding. So far her use of it had been passive, just automatic habit, and I didn't yet have any real insight into how it worked. But I wasn't used to anyone but Archie having such foreknowledge.

I pulled down the scarf, which I still had pulled up over my nose and mouth, then drew it back from my head, letting it settle around my shoulders. I glanced toward the horizon, where the purple sky was beginning to show hints of red and gold—it seemed strange that Amun and his mate were not yet returned, from what I understood he did not normally take such risks. But, perhaps it was a stroke of good fortune—now I may get the chance to make my case to the others alone, and from what I sensed from their minds so far, they seemed far more agreeable.

"Edythe," I answered, turning my eyes back to Brena. "Edythe Cullen."

Brena smiled wide, and whatever small reservations she might have had about me seemed to evaporate at my honesty. "Cullen. Figured as much. One of Carine's coven. You have the same eyes."

She went on, "Come on, you've got to meet our sister. And our coven leader should be back soon, he and his mate are just out hunting. He can be a grouch, but don't worry about him."

However, as she started to turn, she shot an uncertain glance at the horizon. For the first time, her thoughts too turned to the question of why Amun and Kebi would have been gone so long. In the past, Amun had had his mate bring back their kills so that he and the rest of the coven did not have to go out, but when Brena had been brought into the coven, she had put a stop to that. Ordinarily now when they went out he was pushing them all to return as soon as possible, ever worried of attracting the Volturi's attention, but this night he had opted to remain out even as the others returned, on the excuse he and Kebi had not found good targets yet. It was—unusual.

Brena shrugged to herself. If they did not come back before daybreak, her coven mate would know exactly where they were if they needed to be tracked down. Without hesitation, she turned and leaped lightly inside the hole.

I waited a moment to see if Tiam would follow, but he gestured to me. Though the sweep of his arm was polite, mostly he didn't like the idea of the both of them having their backs to a stranger. At least if he came last, he would see it if I tried anything.

Rather than let myself fall all they way to the bottom as Brena had done, I opted to take the metal rungs, which had been embedded at intervals into the rock. I didn't want to make any sudden movements and give Tiam any reason for alarm, and I hoped that the seemingly vulnerable position of exposing my back in Brena's direction might inspire a little more trust.

Tiam slipped down just inside the lip of the hole after me, but as he reached out a hand to draw the stone back into place, out of the corner of my eye I saw the stone shift just before he touched it, grinding against the sand, though no sand fell on our heads. Tiam looked sharply at me to see if I had seen, then frowned down at Brena. I didn't look to see her reaction, though I knew she was giving him a slight shrug and an impish smile.

I had seen it on the periphery of their minds here and there—that Brena was talented in some way just as her sister was, to a degree that Amun didn't want anyone to know. However, it wasn't until Tiam's thoughts turned fully in that direction that I suddenly caught a glimpse of the full range of what it was. As my feet touched down on the ground at the bottom and I turned to face her again, I couldn't help but stare at her for a moment in awe—and, for the first time, just a little bit of fear.

The hole had only gone fifty feet or so below the desert surface, and now we stood in a small cavern with roughly dug walls, ringed by dozens of enormous boulders. Tiam started forward pointedly, determined not to grant another opportunity for me to guess at his mate's gift, then hesitated, glancing back at me.

"If you wouldn't mind closing your eyes for a moment," he said.

Brena rolled her eyes. "Oh come on, Ti. You know what Demi says when she talks about Carine. If we can't trust a member of her coven, then who can we trust?"

I didn't try to argue, only obediently closed my eyes. Not that it mattered—I could still see the room, first through Tiam's eyes, then Brena's, though now she was focused on giving her mate an exasperated look.

Tiam went first to one side of the room, shifting a boulder, then to another. It wasn't part of an elaborate code-lock or anything of that nature, he was merely trying to ensure that I couldn't use my hearing to determine which direction the real entrance was. I saw as he moved the real boulder—a slightly lop-sided one to the west, revealing a dark tunnel beyond. He went back and moved another boulder to the east, before he returned to me, and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Okay," he said, "just follow my lead."

"This is ridiculous, Ti," Brena said incredulously, as Tiam walked me in a circle around the room, before taking me toward the tunnel entrance. "You are officially the worst host in the history of hosts. No wonder we never have guests." _It's not like she wouldn't be able to find it again if she wanted to, _she thought. _You can't make one of our kind lose their sense of direction that easily. All this stuff Amun set up is for keeping out humans, not one of our kind. I can't believe you, Ti, you're just being plain rude._

Of course, Tiam already knew that, and he did feel a bit bad to be insulting me this way. However, he knew that if I didn't know the precise boulder, that might buy them a few extra seconds to either prepare to fight or run in case of an attack by a bigger coven. And he also had a notion that demonstrating for me how serious they were about secrecy might in and of itself preempt my trying anything funny.

I didn't resent Tiam's precautions. If a stranger whose intentions I didn't know came to my doorstep, I would do all I could to ensure Beau's safety as well, and that of my coven. He was wise to be wary—especially when they heard my request.

It wasn't until we had traveled some distance down the tunnel, which sloped deeper into the earth, and took several turns, that at last at Brena's insistence Tiam reluctantly told me I could open my eyes.

The walls of the tunnels here were rough and made to look natural, and I knew we were not taking the same gilded pathway they had taken before to get to the surface, but a longer, more circuitous way around. We branched off several more times, and though I had no trouble keeping track of which way we had gone, a human would likely have been completely lost by now.

Eventually we turned down a path that appeared blocked by rubble. However, Tiam stepped forward and, with one hand, pushed in one of the larger stones, where appeared an opening. The rest of the rubble around it remained locked firmly in place, whether glued together or just carefully constructed that way I didn't know, and as Brena ducked inside, Tiam and I followed.

We stepped out onto a small, raised platform overlooking an enormous room. Unlike the rough walls of the tunnel, this one was paved floor to ceiling in perfectly shaped blocks of burnished stone. Every section of wall was decorated, either with a painted engraving of a scene from Egyptian lore or in ancient Egyptian writings, and even a hanging tapestry of papyrus, vibrantly colored with scenes that I took to be, not of Egyptian gods, but of Amun and the others of his old coven, who had fashioned themselves as gods back in the days of the pyramids. Torches lined the walls on every side, while grand pillars rose in two lines forming a pathway back to a throne on a raised dais at the far end.

Seeing the place through the eyes of those who saw the room every day as they had passed through hardly did it justice. In spite of the urgency of my mission, I couldn't help but pause a moment to take it all in. It was just like a throne room of a great pharaoh out of ancient Egypt, with everything as crisp and new as it would have appeared back then.

"A drab place if there ever was one, I know," Brena said, coming up behind me. "Amun—that's our coven leader and creator, by the way—was in charge of the décor. But we managed to get a few rooms of our own."

Brena leaped down from the shelf of stone to the perfectly polished floor below, and I followed.

As we made our way around the edge of the room, Tiam bringing up the rear, Brena talked as we went.

"So, Edythe," she said conversationally. "Edythe of Carine's coven. You'll have to tell us more about what it's like being part of her coven. Tiam and I've never met her, but Demi's told us so much. Even ol' grumpy Amun doesn't have much to complan about her, which is saying something." She gave a hearty laugh.

"Carine is my creator," I answered. "I was the first of her coven, she saved me from the Spanish influenza. 1918."

I spoke softly, but easily. I hoped sharing details of my past without hesitation might make even Tiam more at ease around me.

"You're still a young one, then," Brena said with some surprise. "Carine stayed alone for a long time."

I nodded. "Yes. Carine knows that not all would wish for this life. She hesitated to force it upon any who would not fully understand what it was, even to end her own loneliness."

Brena considered that, humming thoughtfully to herself. "I'd like to meet Carine someday."

We came around the sidewall of the vast throne room, stopping in front of a door of stone. Tiam once again came forward to push it in. Beyond it was another corridor, with more doors and a series of torches along the walls. Many of the doors were cast in gold, with Egyptian symbols and decorations running along their surfaces, but toward the end of the corridor were several doors of heavy wood, carved and stained in obviously modern styles. Brena shot a grin at me over her shoulder.

"And," she said, "here we step out of dusty old ancient Egypt, into the twenty-first century. Refreshing, isn't it?"

Each of the modern doors was of a different style and different color of knob, as though a deliberate attempt to make them mismatched. While I found the infusion of the modern more an unwelcome interruption to the mystic aura of the place, I supposed Brena was entitled to her bit of rebellion. It was certainly more tame than my rebellious phase had been.

Brena went to one door with a black knob. She twisted it, and pushed her way on inside. She then gestured to me, and I followed.

I had already seen the room through the eyes of my hosts, and had been continuing to see it through the occupant still in the room. But now I picked out a few more details. A closed laptop sat on the coffee table, plugged into an outlet, and I noticed an enormous flatscreen television had been bolted to the front wall. A nearby bookcase was lined to capacity with DVDs, everything from old westerns to modern art films to new age thrillers. The only concession I could see that kept the room from looking completely like an ordinary living room taken straight out of the average house on the suburbs were the torches that lined the walls, in the same style as those outside, clearly more for ambiance than light.

My wandering eyes at last came to rest on the third member of this group of friends, this small coven within Amun's coven. She was reclining on her side on the longest couch, and she watched me with a kind of lazy curiosity. She sat up, though slowly, not in any particular hurry.

"Hey Demi," Brena said brightly. "Here's the visitor you mentioned. Edythe, she said her name was. She's a member of Carine's coven."

Demi—though I already knew her full name was actually Demia—slid to her feet, still with the kind of easy, indolent grace of a well-fed jungle cat. "Nice to meet you, Edythe," she said in a lilting voice. "We like to have some company once in a while." She extended a hand to shake, in an oddly human gesture that made me start in surprise.

I had already stretched out my hand to return the handshake before I understood that she, knowing I was part of Carine's coven and Carine's close interactions among humans, was mostly doing it to humor me. And also because touch, while she didn't really need it, made her gift stronger. It helped her read deeper into my past—not quite the way that Sulpicia did, seeing into my mind and heart, but in a way that made me feel uncomfortable all the same.

I withdrew my hand as quickly as courtesy allowed.

"So," said Demi, settling back on her couch and propping her feet up on the coffee table. "What brings you here, Edythe? A social call? Or something else?" In spite of her idle demeanor, her eyes seemed to sharpen, with a keen intuition that went beyond that of either her sister or wary brother.

I hesitated briefly, but saw no reason to hold back. There was no easy way to work up to what I wanted, and I couldn't afford to waste anymore time, especially since I suspected that when Amun returned he would make this a much harder sell.

"I'm so sorry to suddenly show up here unannounced," I began. "But yes, I have come in need of aid—Carine said that one of your number is a great tracker. And...there is someone that I need to find."

"Hmm," Demia said lazily. "And who might that be?" Her posture remained relaxed, but I could feel an undercurrent of interest in her thoughts. While Amun's strict rules trying to keep them away from the eyes of other covens had never chafed at her quite the way it had for her free-spirited spirit, all of her training to use her gift always made her sometimes wish for a chance to exercise it more fully. And her sister's adventurous spirit had, to some degree, rubbed off on her over the decades.

"My mate," I answered, and this time I turned my appeal half toward Brena. Even though Demia was many centuries older than her sister, she had never taken a mate, and I hoped Brena would have a more personal understanding of my plight. "He's...been taken prisoner."

They all regarded me for a long moment.

Demia smoothed the edge of her sleeve. "Well, as you might have guessed, I'm the tracker Carine told you about," she said. "Something like that wouldn't be difficult." Her eyes rose to meet mine. "Only..."

"Only it sounds as though you need a band of fighters, not just a tracker," Tiam completed.

I hesitated. They were right of course, one vampire alone wasn't likely to succeed against the likes of Sulpicia. She wasn't someone to be caught off guard or outwitted through her own carelessness or neglect. But I wasn't sure yet if I ought to push my luck.

"I just want him back and safe," I said finally. "When we find them, I'll do everything I can to free him. I...don't know if I could ask anyone else to take that risk."

"Just how big of a coven are we talking about here?" Brena asked. She looked down at her hands and flexed her fingers experimentally.

"You're going to need help," Demia murmured thoughtfully. "Reckless bravery won't save your mate."

Even Tiam was regarding me with something other than suspicion now. He glanced at Brena, trying to calculate how many she could use her power to take down alone while he could still ensure her protection.

I stared back at them, amazed. They were so quick to step up to help a stranger—even putting themselves at risk. Part of that might have been the perpetual boredom of a life mostly spent underground, sheltered away from others of their kind by their overprotective coven leader, but they were also moved to sympathy at the thought of my separation from my mate. They were not vegetarians, but I could see they were the good ones when it came to our kind.

"Well?" Brena prompted. "How many? You've got to know you won't get your mate back by yourself." She paused, then added, "You know, I'm kind of surprised Carine isn't here. Will she be coming along to help?"

Carine's voice whispered at the back of my mind.

_...the impact on our worlds, both human and vampire, would be catastrophic. It is better that we leave him..._

These were a good, honest sort. Could they really be convinced to help defy our revered rulers? I had been certain that surely Amun, whose own coven had been conquered and annihilated by Sulpicia's, would have indoctrinated his people against them. But the more I heard of their thoughts, the more they seemed to put little stock in their leader's opinions.

I gazed back at them, hesitating, trying to figure out the best next approach.

Demia was now staring fixedly at me—trying to get a lock on the mate of mine she had never met. The one who I would have spent the most time with, whose essence would be strongest on me. However, for the first time a sliver of suspicion crept into her thoughts. She felt others I was close to, but none who had come close enough to have been a lover.

I couldn't help but marvel as I watched in her mind as she worked her gift. She could track anyone, anywhere, and not only those she had met, but anyone _I _had met. Every mind had a particular taste or scent that lingered on the air or on the skin, and couldn't be hidden or washed away. To call her the greatest tracker in the world was not an exaggeration.

Whatever my fears, I knew I had to speak, before Demia concluded my story was in some way false. I said quickly, "You won't be able to follow my mate directly. He has a power—a power to make him untrackable. His mind is shielded from many powers. The only way to find him will be to track his captors."

Demia regarded me for a moment. At last she said, "How close have you come to these captors? Even I can't track someone if they've had no contact with anyone in front of me."

I nodded. "That—won't be a problem. I have met them. And—I expect you have as well."

They glanced at one another, each trying to guess what I might mean.

"Met them?" Brena said in confusion. "How can you know if we've met them or not? Who are they?"

I knew there was no concealing it. Still, I held back, just a second longer. "I only need someone to lead me to them," I reiterated. "I won't ask anyone to fight. I just—need my mate back safely."

They all sensed my tension. The truth I had been holding back saying. They gazed at me with uncertainty now, suspicion, and even though I knew I couldn't afford to tell them, I didn't have a choice.

"Who?" Tiam repeated at last, with a hint of force.

I took a brief breath. "Sulpicia of the Volturi."

Silence. No sound but the hum of electric currents through the walls to the modern appliances, beneath the soft crackle of the flickering torches. Just four still, frozen hearts—and a sea of abruptly blazing thoughts.

It was Tiam who moved first. He was suddenly standing between me and the partially open door, his back bent, nostrils flared. Demia too was on her feet again. Brena didn't move, only glanced at the others uncertainly, but she too reluctantly raised her hands.

"No," Tiam snarled. He had raised his arms, blocking my escape, and coiled his legs as though to spring. Demia eyed me with regret.

"Wait," Brena said, glancing at me. "We haven't heard the whole story."

"I think we've heard all we need to," Tiam said, lips curled back from his teeth.

Demia sighed deeply. "You know as well as we do, Brena." She looked at me again, almost apologetically. "You may be in the right," she told me. "We know better than anyone that the Volturi is not always kind, and we all respect and admire Carine greatly. However—I hope you understand. Those who know of treachery and fail to act, to the Lady Sulpicia, they are just as guilty. I'm afraid we can't allow you to leave."

Demia's thoughts flashed back to over half a century ago. When Sulpicia had scoured the world for anyone who had supported the rebellion that had killed her little thief. How the soldiers had come hunting for Amun, and it was only Demia's tracking that had allowed them keep out of Sulpicia's path until her wrath had died down. How they had returned to Egypt to find many of Amun's acquaintances who had hoped for the rebellion's success annihilated, the empty desert plains covered in scorch marks where their bodies had burned.

Brena too thought of the smell of charred immortals on the wind, the terror of their brief life as fugitives as Sulpicia's forces pursued them. Her eyes went briefly to her mate, who she could not imagine living without—then at last returned to me, only this time with pity.

They had me surrounded—Demia in front of me, Tiam behind, and Brena to my side. Brena's fingers danced in the air, ready at a moment's notice to summon her tremendous power, if needed.

I should have seen this coming. Perhaps a part of me had—that there had never been a means to convince them, no matter how clever or persuasive I might be. Now I saw in a blinding flash the only possible path to get what I needed—my only option from the beginning.

They were all fast. But having me outnumbered, they thought they already had me beaten—and I was faster.

I spun on Brena. Before any of them could react, my forearm connected with her collarbone, and I slammed her back into the stone wall so hard a crack shot from the point of impact like a lightning bolt. The coffee table turned over with a heavy crash, sending shards of glass everywhere, and I pressed against her neck, pinning one of her arms against the wall behind her and seizing the other with my free hand.

"Don't move," I ordered in a low, dangerous voice. We were standing directly beside one of the walls decorative torches, and I pressed my fingers against the side of her jaw, forcing her head back to an odd angle toward it. It would only take a second to wrench her head from her shoulders and set it to blaze in the flames.

Brena froze, as did Demia and Tiam behind us. For a second no one moved—then Brena sagged slightly in my grip, eyes sliding closed.

I felt as her mind shifted to the flames, and I realized dimly the torches were not so much a design choice as a defensive measure. A ready weapon in case of such an attack.

I shoved her again, hard, breaking her concentration and forcing her head down until the flames licked her pale olive skin. Her power was great—but it wouldn't make a difference. Not against someone who saw it coming.

"You try to use that trick of yours," I whispered, "and I will kill you where you stand. Then I will take your mate."

Brena's eyes opened, and she stared at the flames centimeters from her face.

"Yes," I said. "I know all about your gift. It's powerful, unlike anything I've ever seen—but you can't make it work fast enough to save you."

"How—" Brena began. That I knew of Demi's power was no surprise, Carine and Sulpicia both knew of it. But Brena had only been created within the last two hundred years, with little to no contact with anyone.

The time to play my hand had come. "I have a gift of my own," I said. "I see your thoughts, I know what you know. So as you might guess—none of you will be catching me by surprise."

Brena struggled uselessly, trying to pull her head away from the flame. "Are...you really part of Carine's coven?" she asked through gritted teeth.

I shoved her against the wall again, then let go of her arm for just an instant to snatch the torch from its holding. As I brought my arm around to seize her in a headlock, I said, "Don't think about it, Tiam."

Tiam had not moved from where he stood, but he had tensed, looking for an opportunity to strike when my guard was down.

I now turned to face them, Brena still in my grip. Both her arms were now free, but I had her head and the torch, and it did her no good.

"This is what we're going to do," I said calmly. "You're going to lead me to Sulpicia, Demia. If I fail and Sulpicia sees my thoughts, she'll understand you didn't have a choice. I will bring your sister to make sure you do as I say. Tiam, you will remain here. If you all cooperate, nothing will happen to any of you."

Demia stared at me for a long moment, trying to think if there was a way out of this. She knew I could be bluffing—but if my mate was really on the line, she doubted it. Sulpicia might come after them, but if she didn't agree, I would kill Brena, and might even kill Tiam before I was through.

Demia didn't speak, but I felt the moment she gave in. She started to turn toward the back, where I knew a hidden passageway behind the DVD case would take us back to the surface some distance away—and that was when she felt them.

Two familiar presences approached one of the hidden entrances. She had been so focused on what was going on here she hadn't noticed them before—Amun and Kebi. However, she froze for a moment—because they weren't alone.

She tried to hide it, the knowledge of just exactly who the others were. But it was already too late.

I had started to drag Brena forward, toward the hidden exit, but now I stopped. "Wait," I said, holding Brena where she was. Demia paused.

For several seconds I considered, weighing my options. This might be the bigger opportunity. Trying to reach Sulpicia with two vampires who would be looking for every chance to foil me in tow was hardly a guarantee I would reach my target, and trying to find a way to outwit Sulpicia on my own had always been a losing battle. This might be just exactly what I needed.

"Change of plans," I said abruptly. I let my arm fall from around Brena's neck, and shoved her forward, back in Tiam's direction.

She took several steps forward, then spun on me. Her eyes flashed with fury, her teeth bared in a ferocious snarl. For a moment, every torch blazed to the ceiling like flamethrowers, leaving scorch marks as black as pitch, and the ground trembled beneath our feet.

Hers was a great power indeed. The majority of gifts were those of the mind, or at most, they allowed sight of some place unseen, such as Archie's. But Brena could manipulate the elements, like a sorcerer from human legends. It was no wonder Amun didn't want anyone to know she existed—Sulpicia would be most interested to meet her.

I calmly held the torch at arm's length, as the flames sparked and hissed, rising in a mini inferno.

"How dare—" Brena began. "I should—"

"Strike me down where I stand?" I completed. I shrugged. "You can try. But I think I'm about to be the least of your worries."

Brena was not someone who angered easily. She and Demia both were almost always good-natured, and Brena especially preferred to go through her immortal life enjoying the good things than getting angry. But being used as a hostage to force her coven to put themselves in the Volturi's crosshairs was not something she could easily forgive.

Even so, as the seconds passed, the tension in her frame faded. The flames of the torches died back down, and I replaced the torch in its holding. I folded my arms, leaning back against the wall.

"We wouldn't have killed you, you know," Brena said at last, glaring at me. "We would have just made you stay here. Joined our coven."

"Yes," I said evenly, "I know."

"Would you have killed me?" she asked. "Taken Tiam next?"

I paused. "I don't know," I said honestly.

Tiam had quickly stepped forward, placing himself between Brena and me, tense as though ready for another attack.

By contrast, Demia's arms had fallen to rest at her sides. She knew I wouldn't be trying anything more. Even so, she eyed me with something like distaste.

Brena glanced at her sister. "What is it, Demi? What's happening?"

Demia sighed a little. "Amun is almost back. And... it feels as though he's brought along some guests. Guests the Volturi wouldn't care for."

Brena tilted her head a fraction in confusion, but Tiam sucked in a sharp gasp. "You don't mean—but why would Amun—"

"Sulpicia is weak right now," I answered. "A rebellion has threatened her rule. And—it would seem that your coven leader and the Romanians are eager to take advantage of it."

Brena's eyes widened. Tiam looked ill.

Images blossomed in their minds, of the stories they had heard—the brutality, the excess. While the Egyptians of old might have indulged in mass human sacrifice as they lived as gods, the Romanians had lived for war almost as much as blood. They spread fear like wildfire as they moved from territory to territory, conquering and feasting as they pleased, and enjoyed every moment of it.

Brena shook her head. "There must be some mistake. Maybe the Romanians got the jump on them and took them hostage."

"No," I said simply. "They haven't."

Demia gazed at me for a long moment. "You know what I'm thinking, mind-reader," she said at last.

I let me eyes slide closed, and I nodded once. "Yes."

"You have no idea what the Romanians are," she said in a low voice, her cool eyes never moving from my face. "You can't make deals with them. They're like wild jackals—lions. They're ravenous beasts that will devour anything they see fit. If you try to find help with them, they will tear you and your mate apart."

As though to punctuate her words, images from the minds of Amun's two guests drifted down to me. Memories of a past long gone, and fantasies of possible futures. All filled with unimaginable carnage.

I felt a deep shiver run down my spine.

"You may be right," I murmured. My eyes opened, and they bore back into hers. I pushed the images aside, and thought of only one—Beau, bent before Sulpicia, helpless in her grasp.

"I suppose it's a good thing then," I said softly. "I've always considered myself a lion, too."

* * *

A/N: Another one down.

Pretty eventful chapter this time, though a hard one to write for a lot of reasons.

So, we're getting into a lot of the characters who appeared fairly briefly in Breaking Dawn. Just for clarity—Brena is the swapped version of Ben, Tiam is Tia, and Demia is Demetri, the master tracker from the Volturi that we first meet in New Moon. (As for why Demi is with Amun's coven here, I can't remember if the series ever explains this, but in the Twilight illustrated guide we find out that Demetri was originally created by Amun, and it was Amun who helped him hone his tracking skill to perfection. Aro used Chelsea's gift of creating/breaking bonds to steal Demetri and turn him into a loyal guard of the Volturi instead.) In this Life and Death timeline, Sulpicia did offer Demia a place in the Volturi, but didn't try to use a gift to turn her, and instead uses Cato and Tacita together to fulfill the Volturi's tracking needs, whose gifts were transferred from other vampires.

On what I mentioned at the beginning on posting speed—much as I've been resisting it (as even four-week intervals is a bit longer than I want on this project), these last couple of chapters have shown me that we're getting into a segment of the story that needs a lot more work than I'd originally thought. This is primarily a good thing, because it means I'm seeing ways to clean up the vague or questionable bits of writing rather than things just sliding by, but it also means more intense rewriting work, and I'm leery of doing heavy revisions right before posting for a variety of reasons.

All this to say, I may start taking an extra week or two on the more difficult chapters, or if I'm able to get on a good streak as far as rewrites on later chapters, I may focus on that. I don't like to take longer on updates than I have been (particularly right now with half of us still stuck at home, even as things are starting to tentatively open back up), but I also don't want to push out chapters that I feel could be significantly better, and pushing so hard reworking as I have the last couple of chapters I worry will make the work hard to sustain. (My off days at work are also no longer consistent thanks to covid, so it's possible the days of the week I update may also shift around.)

Since I still want updates to be predictable, I'm considering starting a journal somewhere with the purpose of listing my intended dates for upcoming chapters. If I am able to get something like that set up, I'll put the information on how to find it in my bio.

In any case, thank you all so much for reading, I really appreciate hearing every one of your thoughts. If you have a moment, let me know what you thought this time around, and as always hope to see you in the next one. Stay safe!

Posted 5/25/20


	16. Enemy

A/N: And, first update on the new schedule. Definitely feels like a longer gap than I like, but has been hugely helpful so far. I feel better about the editing on the more significant revisions for this chapter, and even got some important reworking done on a future chapter that I had been trying to get myself to work on for months.

Thanks so much to everyone for reading and for your continued patience! Hope you enjoy, and see you on the other side! :J

* * *

Chapter 15: Enemy

**Beau**

"Then let us begin."

Though the chilly Alaskan air could no longer bother me, I could still feel the difference in temperature on my skin, and something about Sulpicia's smile made the human in me want to shiver. I was glad when her gaze shifted away.

"Elena," Sulpicia said softly. "This is your area of expertise. I will leave it to you. Tacita, if you would come here for a moment—after all, if Beau is to practice, he must have subjects."

Tacita obediently went to Sulpicia's side, and stood there, stiff and staring straight ahead like a Roman sentry.

Elena nodded once, before her gaze turned reluctantly to me. Her face smoothed with a kind of stoic professionalism, all remnants of the terror of what had almost happened to her brother gone for the moment.

From what I understood, Elena's power was to somehow see the gifts of other vampires, so her role within the Volturi back when she was a guard would have probably been to identify useful talents and oversee their training. As far as I knew, Sulpicia had no other gift like it now, and I could see why she would have regretted losing her.

Of course, near as I could tell Elena's sight wasn't going to be a whole lot of help here. She couldn't directly see what I could do, or had the potential to do. All this was going to be a shot in the dark.

Sulpicia reached over and took Tacita's wrist. "We will serve as the first test," she said. "Beau, you will attempt to project your power over Tacita, to prevent me seeing her thoughts."

Elena nodded once. She approached the two, gesturing for me to do the same.

Kirill kept his distance, but watched us closely. After what had nearly happened to Ivan, I could only imagine what he was thinking—perhaps wondering, as I was, if I failed to be able to do what Sulpicia needed if she would change her mind and go after Ivan to have him executed after all.

I followed Elena's lead cautiously, and at last she turned to me.

"As Lady Sulpicia explained in her message, it is clear your gift is that of the rare sixth category—a talent that works in reaction to other talents. You are also a shield, and our objective will be to see if that shield can be projected to include others as well."

Her tone was clipped and formal, like a lawyer explaining possible avenues of action to avoid a client going to jail. This had been her job for centuries, and she knew how to do it.

Even so, I couldn't stop the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I would follow Elena's directions to the letter, try with all my might to do what Sulpicia seemed to think I could. I wasn't stupid—I knew if it turned out I wasn't useful the way Sulpicia thought, I and Jules both would be in peril, and perhaps Edythe too if she was able to catch up to us. Yet—I couldn't push away the sense that this was all going to be a colossal waste of time. After all, with my new vampire brain thinking a thousand thoughts a second, if I could do something more with this power than I was already doing, surely I would already know it.

If Elena noticed my inner turmoil, she didn't show it, and merely extended a hand in Tacita's direction, signaling me to come closer.

"You may find it easier at first with physical contact," she said.

I hesitated, then reached forward slowly, cautiously. Tacita stared back at me with piercing burgundy eyes, cold as ice. But she made no move to stop me as, very carefully, I pressed my fingers to her free wrist.

Sulpicia was still touching Tacita, and I knew every one of her current thoughts, as well as every other memory of her life from centuries past, all triumphs and humiliations, were flowing into her. If Tacita felt any discomfort, she didn't show it.

I took a short breath. Being near Tacita set my teeth on edge— knowing what she'd almost done to Ivan and doubtless many more— but I had to forget about that and do what I was told.

"Now what?" I said gruffly after a moment.

"Close your eyes," Elena answered.

Although my newborn instincts screamed against closing my eyes in front of so many other vampires I hardly trusted, I complied.

"Now... focus," Elena intoned. "Do you feel it? Do you feel a presence around you? A glass wall, perhaps, or a hood of chain mail, a helmet—even a cloud of smoke. Something that's a part of you, standing between you and those that would try to penetrate your mind."

A deep crease formed in my brow. I tried to feel it—feel something around me. Like a forcefield maybe, or a wall of bulletproof glass. However, in spite of all my concentration, so much sharper than it had ever been as a human, nothing came. It was just me and nothingness.

I finally shook my head slowly. "I don't feel anything."

"That's not unusual," Elena said gently, reassuringly. "Perhaps the cloud of smoke will be the best analogy, that often seems the most effective with gifts of a more insubstantial nature. Focus on that. Imagine yourself feeling something around you, something you would not expect yourself to feel. Focus, not on the physical world, on something physically around your head, but on the mental world, the world that exists in your mind. Imagine something floating in the air around your inner world."

Elena was quickly losing me now, and I had to open my eyes. Thinking abstractly was not my strong suit, and a short irritable breath escaped me. However, as my gaze met Elena's, though her expression remained perfectly calm, professional, her eyes were intense, almost desperate. _Try harder,_ her eyes seemed to say. _You must try harder._

My eyes flickered automatically to Sulpicia. That faint smile was still on her lips, but a hint of tension was just visible in her jaw now. I thought of Jules, of Edythe, wherever she was, and even Ivan, headed now back to his home with his brother.

I closed my eyes without voicing any complaints, and again concentrated.

I let my imagination roam. First I pictured a metal helmet over my head—that was the one that made the most sense to me. However, after a few moments I reluctantly moved on to the image of the smoke, a heavy white mist obscuring my head from view. I tried to do as Elena said, and shift from thinking of a physical shield to a mental one, forgetting about the physical world around me, detaching myself from my body and focusing only on what was in my head.

Still nothing.

The problem was that it just didn't feel like there was anything to feel. And maybe that was it—maybe what protected my mind wasn't a shield at all, or anything like a shield, but just something different inside my head. Just like the analogy of the radio frequencies Edythe had used so long ago—maybe all the vampire gifts were on FM, and only those on AM could get through.

I wasn't going to be able to do it. Jules had been forced to experience the horror of being taken prisoner by vampires, and Edythe had been hurt by my lies, all for nothing. But then, I could have told Sulpicia from the beginning that it would turn out like this. I could have told her that, even as a vampire, I would turn out to be supernaturally useless.

I probably should have been afraid. Afraid of what all this would mean for us, everyone I cared about who was only protected by what Sulpicia hoped I could do. But as I thought about everything that had happened from the moment I had arrived at the cabin, that should have been where Edythe and I had had our honeymoon—the pointlessness of it all—I felt instead a pulse of anger. Pointless, every single bit of it.

And it was as that thought crossed my mind, I felt it.

Something seemed to be wrapped around my entire body like a cloak, an invisible membrane. Whatever it was it felt fragile, illusory—like the slightest movement would cause it to slip away. But it was there.

Elena must have seen the change in my expression.

"Do you feel something?" she asked, eagerly but softly, to keep from breaking my concentration.

Very carefully, I dipped my head a centimeter in response.

"Hold onto it," Elena urged in a low voice. "Memorize how it feels. Maintain your awareness of it. It is a part of you, as much as your arms, your legs—it is simply another limb to move at your will."

I didn't answer. I tried to follow her instructions, but even as she spoke I could already feel it slipping away, like formless mist through my fingers.

"Now," Elena murmured, "try to push it out from yourself. Extend it."

It seemed pointless to attempt—I could feel the membrane now, but it felt so delicate, like trying to manipulate a soap bubble. It felt like it might burst at the slightest touch.

However, I did as she said, and pushed—slowly, ever so slowly—out from where membrane seemed to cling against my skin. I felt it stretching out, like an elastic band. I could feel it, not only around myself, but around Tacita's hand I was touching. I kept pushing, inch by inch, further and further.

For just an instant, I was sure of it—my soap bubble was stretched out over Tacita, too.

Sulpicia let out a soft breath, like a sigh.

I felt a flicker of doubt—did I really have it around Tacita, or was I imagining it all? Was it all in my head?

My eyes opened, and just like that, I lost it. The bubble seemed to dissolve, and draw back in on myself in an instant. If it was there at all.

"Anything?" Elena asked, looking to Sulpicia. She didn't look particularly hopeful.

Sulpicia's expression was hard to read. However, when her gaze shifted to meet mine, her mouth stretched in a smile that was almost brilliant—the biggest, most real smile I had seen from her yet.

"For just a moment," she said softly, though an undercurrent of excitement burned beneath the surface. "For a moment, Tacita's mind was silent. That proves it, then."

I don't know exactly what it was—being useful to Sulpicia was a good thing, if we wanted to make it out of this alive. But something in her expression unnerved me more than any anger or disappointment.

"Again then," Elena said. Her eyes were wide with some surprise, but a hint of a relieved smile crossed her lips.

"Wait," I said. I felt like I needed to be honest. "I felt—something. But I don't know how much further I'll be able to take it than that. Whatever it was, it didn't feel... solid. I couldn't keep a grip on it."

"You will learn," Sulpicia said smoothly, with certainty. "It is always difficult at first. You will find the limits eventually, but I do not think you are there yet. Not nearly there. Now, I want you to try this a few more times, and then we will take a break. Carlos will likely be back soon." Her hand was still on Tacita's wrist.

There didn't seem much point arguing, so I just closed my eyes and tried again.

* * *

I didn't make much progress. It felt like trying to walk a tightrope, back when I couldn't even walk across a flat, unobstructed surface without tripping, and I couldn't seem to maintain the necessary balance for more than a few seconds at a time.

I knew I could no longer get exhausted physically, but by the time Carlos arrived, I felt like I should be on the ground, panting. The exercise taxed my mind to the limit.

Carlos had found me a large bear, one with grayish-silver fur that I didn't think looked like a grizzly. He dropped it in front of me, then retreated back.

"Thank you, Carlos," said Sulpicia. "You may go. Send regards to the rest of your family. If all goes well, you will see your mate and your brother again before too long."

Carlos hesitated a moment. Then, glancing apprehensively at Elena, he nodded once, and with a slight respectful dip of his head turned and departed through the trees.

Elena had gone to rejoin Kirill. Sulpicia, Tacita, Brenden, and the kid Renatus also went to stand just on the edge of the trees, away from me and my meal. I didn't know whether they were afraid watching me eat would flare up their own appetites, or if they were just trying to give me some space.

Jules, however, who had been sprawled out on the ground watching me make an idiot of myself during my so-called training, immediately got to her feet and came right over.

I wished she wouldn't. I didn't have to have watched myself in a mirror to know what I looked like when I fed.

"...What?" I said, a little more aggressively than I meant.

Ignoring me, she dropped back to the ground several meters away, sitting with her legs crossed, facing me. Resting her head on her hands, she leaned forward and fixed her eyes on me with avid interest, like I was a fascinating show about to start.

"What?" I said again, scowling. This time the aggression was on purpose.

She waved a hand dismissively. "Don't mind me. Pretend I'm not even here."

"Don't you think it's rude to stare at someone when they're trying to eat?" I said.

She shrugged dismissively. "Sorry. I'm not really up on my bloodsucker etiquette. Anyway, can you really afford to be self-conscious right now? Aren't you about seconds away from flying into a rabid frenzy?"

She was right, if I had been as thirsty as a human as I was now, I'd be delirious, my tongue swollen to twice its size. The inferno in my throat ravaged my entire body, and only through immortal strength was I still able to function. Even so, I managed to glower at her.

"Are you—really going to sit there and watch?"

"Sure am."

"You might start throwing up."

She shrugged again. "I haven't eaten anything in days. I doubt I have anything _to _throw up."

I frowned, worried at that no matter how glibly she said it. However, I shook my head.

"You could close your eyes," I offered at last. I was only too aware of things as they stood—I was different from before, but so far I had to seem not all that different. Watching me eat as a bloodsucker would probably shatter that illusion.

She rolled her eyes. "I could," she acknowledged, "but I won't." She leaned back on her hands, gaze never moving from my face. She added casually, "I've got to see Beau the killing machine in action. The fight with the two blondies wasn't bad, but kind of short."

I stared back at her a long moment, wanting to argue further, but knowing there wasn't much point. At last, I slowly turned my back.

"You know," Jules said unexpectedly, "you always act like you don't know me at all. Like I'd rather stick my head in the sand than know what's going on—or admit that things have changed and they aren't ever going back. But, I know why you think like that, and I guess I can forgive you."

"I told you who I was, didn't I?" I asked without turning.

"Yeah, you did," she admitted. "Thanks."

My fingers tightened into fists. My throat felt oddly tight, that for once had nothing to do with my raging thirst. Things had gotten complicated between Jules and me not so very long ago, even if it felt like an eternity now. As Jules had once said, if I hadn't met and fallen for Edythe, she would have undoubtedly been my path.

I didn't know whether it was in having married Edythe, or in changing into a vampire, but the feelings I'd come to understand so abruptly back then were gone now. That path had irreversibly closed. Even so—she was a friend who I had trouble imagining the future without, as I had trouble imagining the future without Archie, or Carine, or any of the other Cullens who had become my family. I knew I would have had no right to ask that she keep treating me the same as she always had, now given what I had become. But here she was, still my best friend who knew me as well as anyone. And I was more glad for it than I could have ever thought.

The blood had already cooled slightly, and I knew it would have already begun to thicken. Even though the carnivore blood smelled better than the herbivore I'd had before, it didn't smell particularly appetizing.

But I was beyond caring. Now that I had let my mind turn fully to the thirst, had the chance to possibly quench it for the moment, it blocked out all else. It was the torture of my transformation all over again, a burning pain beyond all else. I didn't care what the blood tasted like—I just wanted it.

I bent my head to the kill.

* * *

It wasn't until I was finished that reason returned to me. My throat still burned with thirst, but the blood of the bear took a bit of the edge off. For a little while, I wouldn't have to work quite so hard to focus on other things.

As I came back to myself, I also remembered Jules, watching me. For a moment I remained as I was, with my back to her, paralyzed at the thought she might have changed her mind. That she would write me off as a monster after all, consider the Beau she had known dead, just as she had once promised she would so long ago.

However, I knew I couldn't just stay like this forever—Sulpicia would be looking to resume my training any moment. So at last I forced myself to turn.

Jules was sitting in about the same position as before, her expression unchanged, except for a slight wrinkling of her nose.

"Ugh," she said. "For all those sparkling good looks, you bloodsuckers are _not _pretty when you eat."

I felt myself relax slightly. "I told you you could close your eyes."

"Maybe next time I will."

I studied Jules's face, the circles under her eyes, and the hollows in her cheeks. I remembered what she had said about not eating.

I glanced back at the carcass, not sure if I should make the suggestion. "Um," I began. "You know, if you're hungry..."

Jules knew what I was about to say and she grimaced. "If I was, I think I lost my appetite." She added, "We eat a lot, but we can go a long time without too. It's a wolf thing. Plus since I can't go wolf I'd have to cook it first, and I doubt her majesty is going to sit around waiting for the dog to get its meal."

"Jules—" I began, unable to keep the slightly disapproving, almost parental tone from my voice. "You'll have to eat something eventually. We could be out here for weeks—months."

Jules rolled her eyes. She opened her mouth to respond, but another voice spoke first.

"Not that long, I'm afraid. We are, unfortunately, quite pressed for time."

We both turned as Sulpicia and Tacita approached.

"Now that you are sated," Sulpicia said, "or as sated as you can be, given how new you are, I think we ought to continue."

I hesitated, then nodded curtly once. Stepping forward, I raised an unwilling hand toward Tacita.

Sulpicia shook her head. "No," she said softly. "This time we will try something different. Now that you have made a breakthrough, I think the best way to achieve quick results is to provide you with more...incentive."

Her eyes shifted toward Jules. Without looking away, she said softly, "Kirill?"

Kirill stepped forward, and his gaze followed Sulpicia's.

It took less than a second for me to understand what Sulpicia was planning.

Horror and anger tore as one in my chest, and I spun on Kirill, but before I could so much as touch him, Tacita was on me, pinning both arms behind my back, catching my head in a chokehold. Cato was immediately there beside her, adding muscle to where Tacita held my arms.

I struggled against them for a minute, but though I was probably far stronger than either one alone, no matter how desperately I twisted I couldn't overcome them both. Meanwhile, Sulpicia watched me serenely.

I realized this wasn't doing any good, and changed tactics. "Do you really think I'll help you if you—"

"You should be aware by now that we are all on the same side," Sulpicia said gently. "You must learn to use this power to its fullest extent. Normally that would come with long practice over the course of months, years—but we do not have the time. The use of a gift under duress has proven effective in the past to dramatically shorten the learning curve."

She added, "Of course it may be unpleasant—but you have my assurance that it is a worthwhile sacrifice. And, if successful, your friend will have helped save our world."

I could only stare back at her. I had frozen where I was. Something sharp and cold seemed to be stabbing at my skin, a thousand knives cutting at the bones in my fingers, rising up my arms and sinking down into my cold, still chest. A cold numbness was spreading through me, I couldn't seem to think.

I realized now how complacent I had gotten. I'd known Jules and I weren't safe here, with these people, but somehow I'd convinced myself that I could keep us all right through the fact Sulpicia needed my power. Now I saw how completely wrong I had been.

"You can't," I whispered, my voice more pleading now than demanding. "Just—give me a chance first. Leave her out of it."

Sulpicia's expression was apologetic. "This is the best way." She nodded at Kirill.

I didn't hesitate, I twisted my shoulders with all my might. The suddenness and force of the motion pushed Cato and Tacita back for a moment, and my eyes fell on Kirill, just a few meters away now—then Tacita kicked my legs out from under me, and shoved my head hard to the stone. Cato held my arms with both hands. I struggled, hard, but I couldn't move.

From the odd angle of my head, I could only watch out of the very edge of my vision as Kirill approached Jules, and knelt down beside her.

Jules eyed him for a long moment. She had seen the battle, and the way Kirill had downed Cato with just a touch. "Why do I suddenly get the feeling," she began, "that I'm about to think your buddy's brand of payback would have been a lot nicer than whatever you're about to do?"

"Kirill," I said, forcing my jaw to work even pressed against the ground, in final desperation. "You owe me."

Kirill turned his eyes away from Jules to look at me. And I could see it in his face—much as he hated Jules, probably wanted to rip her to pieces as Ivan had, he didn't want this. He was relieved and grateful I'd been able to save his brother, just as Elena was, and Tanvir and Carlos. And in spite of his power, he wasn't a sadist when it came to using it as Jonathan was.

Even so, his eyes dropped away from mine and he looked away—in something very much like shame.

"It won't cause any permanent harm," he said gruffly, glancing at Jules uncomfortably before looking away again. "It will feel like an electric shock—but it's only in the mind."

"Wow," Jules drawled. "That makes me feel so much better."

Tacita and Cato hauled me to my feet, and dragged me forward. At last, they forced me to my knees beside where Jules still lay.

Jules's eyes had narrowed, her mouth pressed in a brittle line with tension, yet she made no move to try to get away. Whether that was because she knew there was no escape surrounded by vampires, or out of some twisted sense wolf pride, I didn't know.

"Put your hand on her," Tacita commanded coldly.

I clenched my hands into fists, straining back, trying to force myself as far from Jules as I could.

Quick as lightning, Tacita seized one of my arms, and with Cato reinforcing, they pressed my hand forward, until my white knuckles came to rest against her bare wrist. Reluctantly, my hand opened, afraid I might leave a bruise, and after a second I closed my fingers gingerly around it.

"So," Jules said, almost conversationally, "electric shock. How many volts we talking about here?"

"Kirill controls the strength, or voltage you might say," Sulpicia answered. "As Kirill has already said, it may be uncomfortable, but it will leave you with no lasting injury."

Jules nodded thoughtfully. "It's official. You are the most sick, twisted bloodsucker I've ever met. But that's okay. When you let blondie go I was worried you were going soft, and I'd feel bad when the second I got free I clawed your eyes out and ripped you to shreds. Zero guilt now, thanks."

I stared down at Jules. I had never felt Kirill's power myself—yet I had seen it instantly incapacitate Cato, and I knew exactly how much pain it would take to take an immortal out of action. Especially one so professional and dedicated as one of Sulpicia's guard. A dark memory rose to the surface of my mind—Edythe, stricken on the stone ground of an ancient chamber, her beautiful face contorted with agony.

Something seemed to rise in my throat, a wild panic. I couldn't let this happen. I had to stop it—yet with my hazy power that felt more like wisps of smoke than anything I could control, I didn't know how.

"Concentrate, Beau," Sulpicia urged softly. "Kirill, you may begin at any time. Keep to low levels—at first, at least."

Some of the color seemed to have left Jules's face, but still she somehow managed to sneer. "Right. Blondie number two here doesn't like me anymore than his buddy with the man-eating GF. He's not holding back, you've just made his day."

Kirill didn't meet my eyes. He didn't want to do this, after I'd helped his brother, and he didn't enjoy using his power for something like this as Jonathan would have. But he wasn't going to risk defying Sulpicia again.

I opened my mouth—whether for one last plea or to shout a curse, even I didn't know—and it was at that moment Kirill reached down and touched Jules's arm with a single finger.

A sharp gasp escaped Jules's mouth, and I felt her spasm in my grip. Once, twice—then she lay still, panting.

"Wait—" I began, my words almost blurring together as I rushed to get them out. "Wait, I'm not—I still need—"

"There is no more time," Sulpicia answered, almost gently. "Again, Kirill."

"That all you got," Jules managed to say between breaths. "I've had paper cuts worse than—"

Kirill's power hit her again, and she jerked like a marionette on its strings. She gritted her teeth against the pain, refusing to cry out.

A shout escaped my throat, and I coiled my legs, every instinct screaming at me to spring at him, to throw him back. However, Tacita and Cato only redoubled their grips. Tacita was on her feet now, her knee in my back.

"Use your power," she ordered harshly.

Once again Jules lay still, gasping as though she had run a marathon.

"N-Nothing," she said between breaths. "That's nothing." However, her normally russet skin was chalky pale, and her body continued to twitch and spasm.

"Again," Sulpicia said gently. "A little stronger this time."

Jules jerked, and a shout escaped her before she clenched her teeth, clamping down on the sound. She convulsed where she lay, and Kirill had to wrap his fingers around her arm to maintain contact.

My own grip on her tightened, as though that could somehow make it stop.

Concentrate—concentrate. I closed my eyes and clenched my teeth, trying to feel the delicate membrane that surrounded me. I worked to stretch it—but before it could reach her, I felt it recoil like elastic and a shout of frustration escaped me.

Once again Jules stopped shaking and she lay, gasping. Beads of sweat rolled down her face. Her cockiness was gone. Instead her eyes were wild, her lips curled into a snarl.

"Try—try it again," she hissed, but her eyes were wide.

"Again," Sulpicia said. "Stronger."

"No!" I said through my teeth, and I tried once again to strike out and knock Kirill's hand away, but once again Tacita and Cato held me in place. Jules jerked again. Her arms and legs thrashed out, and I felt her muscles tense under my grip, fighting to rip free.

"Harder, Kirill," Sulpicia murmured softly.

Jules went rigid, then her back arched. A scream tore from her mouth for the first time, a single, unbroken note, that seemed to echo off the trees and rock.

I struggled against Tacita and Cato with everything I was, twisting and striking at the air like a rabid animal, but even as I felt the drive of my horror push my newborn strength to new levels, they both seemed to move in eery, perfect synchronization, countering each movement with the exact right amount of pressure at the right angle to keep me from budging from where I knelt.

"Stop it!" I shouted, and my voice was high with panic. "Stop it, please! I—I need time to think. I need to get ready—"

"No, Beau," said Sulpicia, and for the first time there was a hardness beneath the soft words. "The time for preparation is over. This is the only way you will learn quickly. With sufficient motivation. The longer you fail to gather your thoughts, to use the power, the longer she will suffer. Know that, and do what you must."

"I—I can't," I gasped, almost pleading. "I can't do it. Please—_stop it!_"

I could feel myself shaking, and I gripped Jules's arm until I was sure I would leave a bruise. Here I was, immortal—supernaturally strong, with a brain like lightning, with sharp eyes like lasers. And I did not think I had ever felt more helpless.

"One more level, Kirill," Sulpicia said quietly.

Kirill's mouth twisted, his shoulders rigid. However, he didn't look at me as he closed his eyes obediently.

Jules's screams reached a new pitch, inhuman—like the yowls of a tortured animal.

Panic seized me like a vice. As I looked into her face, twisted and white with agony, her eyes rolled back in her head, I felt as though it were myself I was looking at there on the ground, as though this was my pain every bit as much as hers.

I tried to muster another membrane shield, but it only pulled a few inches out from me before it broke, like water from a shattered glass. I couldn't. I couldn't do anything.

For the first time, I wrenched my gaze away from Jules to look at Sulpicia.

"Please," I whispered. _"Please—"_ I grasped at anything. "I can do it. I'll learn it. Just—just I can't think like this. _Please—"_

"Maybe," Elena said softly, hesitantly, from where she stood a little ways back. "Maybe he's right. Maybe we should try a different method."

"No," said Sulpicia, and for once, her voice was no longer soft and gentle. She stared back at me with misty dark eyes that were flat, unyielding, and in that moment I saw the darkness of a millennia's worth of ruthlessness and terrible acts in their depths. "No, there is no time. You _will _learn—allowing your emotions to control you, make you impotent, is helping no one. We will stay here however many hours or days necessary. It will not stop until you _make_ it stop—so you may choose to focus your energy productively, or we can stay here until she is tortured into insanity. The pain, as we said, will not hurt her physically—but over a prolonged enough period, I can't make the same guarantee for her mind. You can do what is necessary to save her—or you can choose not to try. But that will not be our doing—you will have only your own weakness to blame."

I stared back at Sulpicia, Jules's screams echoing in my head, seeming to rend the air around me.

A hatred unlike anything I had ever felt—not for Joss, not for Victor, not even for myself when I had betrayed the two people I cared about most—rose like a blazing inferno in my chest, searing up my throat. As I looked into her ancient, cold, hard eyes, I felt like I was really seeing her for the first time, the one who had ruled over vampires for centuries, in her long cloak as black as death. I didn't care what her reasons were, or why she thought she was doing this. She was evil. More evil than any of the monsters I had ever met.

As the black rage tore through me, as fast and all-consuming as an explosion, I felt it once again—the membrane around my body. Only now it didn't feel like so much like a membrane as a piece of malleable rubber, no longer delicate or liable to break.

With a surge of mental strength, I pushed it out from myself in all directions—too far. The bubble enveloped Kirill and Tacita too, and Jules continued to scream. I seized hold of the bubble once again, reining it back in. I felt the bubble twist at my command, and I let it descend on Jules, wrapping around her—it formed a perfect shell, clinging to her skin.

Jules's thrashing limbs slowed, then fell limp. She lay on the ground, once again panting for breath. Her throat sounded raw and hoarse, like a sputtering car engine.

Kirill's eyes had opened, and they were wide. For a moment, Tacita, too, reacted in surprise. Only for a fraction of a second did her grip slacken—but a second was all I needed.

With a roar I tore myself free, and I punched Kirill in the chest with enough force to crumple an armored car. He flew back twenty feet, only just righting himself as his back struck stone. I spun on Tacita and Cato next, but they were too quick for me. However, rather than seize me again, Tacita merely jumped back out of range, Cato instantly following her lead. Tacita watched me carefully, her expression inscrutable.

I was on my feet in less than a second, standing over Jules. I was no longer in contact with her, but still I could feel the protective shield encircling her, keeping her safe from any of the others' powers. I was breathing heavily, my lips curled back from my teeth, my eyes wide and wild. I bent forward, ready for an attack.

"Tacita?" Sulpicia asked softly. Her eyes never moved from me.

"I...can't sense her," Tacita said slowly. "She's invisible—just like the boy."

Sulpicia surveyed me carefully. "And now?" she said after a moment.

"Still nothing," Tacita reported, voice low.

Sulpicia's answering smile was wide. "Excellent," she murmured.

I growled, deep in my chest. Jules and I had to get out of here, right now. Whatever this power was, it wasn't going to be helping Sulpicia.

My eyes darted around the clearing, trying to weigh my options. If I picked up Jules, how many seconds would it take to reach the trees? Where could we go that they couldn't follow?

Sanity slowly return to me, and I gritted my teeth, my shoulders dropping an inch. Of course neither Elena nor Kirill would help us fend off Sulpicia or her people, I was sure of that, and as I saw Tacita raise her arms, hands flat like spades in readiness for a fight, I knew I wouldn't be getting past her. Brenden too was watching us, and he raised a hand, his face a mask of concentration, ready to use his power if necessary.

This power didn't change our situation. We were still every bit as trapped as we had been from the beginning. Only all the more so now—now that I knew exactly how far Sulpicia was willing to go to get what she wanted.

However, still I remained crouched over Jules, ready to fight anyone who tried to come near.

"I think that will do for now," Sulpicia said, unaffected by the ferocious glare I was still orienting her way. "Fortunately I don't think such measures will be necessary again. You have broken through an important barrier, and now will just be experimentation with finding the limits of the gift, and stabilizing it through practice and repetition."

The hard lines of my face didn't relax. I didn't trust that in the slightest—she would use any tactics she wanted to in order to get the results she was after. But even if I did trust that, what was done was already done. These minutes that had felt like centuries would be burned into my memory forever.

"Take a few minutes to collect yourself," said Sulpicia. "Then we will convene again to go over a few logistics—now that your power seems to have fully manifested itself, it's only fair you are made aware of some of the details of just why we are in such a hurry."

At last I allowed my eyes to drop, but my expression didn't change.

Elena started toward Sulpicia, giving me a carefully wide berth, though not before sending a glance my way full of regret and apology. She murmured something to Sulpicia, but I didn't bother to listen for her reply.

Instead, I slowly sank down to my knees, directing my gaze in front of me.

Jules was lying on her back, staring up at the sky. Her normally deep russet skin was a chalky gray, with glistening beads of sweat forming a film over her temple and forehead.

"Regular Mother Teresa, isn't she?" she managed between short breaths.

I didn't know whether I wanted to laugh or cry. "Jules," I began. "Jules, I'm so—"

"Hope you aren't about to say _sorry_," she interrupted, still breathless. "Because—you really shouldn't apologize on behalf of psychos."

I shook my head. "If it weren't for me," I whispered, "you wouldn't be here."

"If it weren't for me, you wouldn't be here either," she pointed out. Her breath was coming back to her now, though her voice was still hoarse. "I'd say we're even."

She sighed deeply, and slumped against the hard rockface. She stared up at the sky.

After a long moment, she said unexpectedly, "You know, I used to imagine what I'd do. If I were captured and tortured by bloodsuckers, I mean."

In spite of everything, I felt myself frown slightly at this. "Why on earth would you imagine something like that?"

She shrugged, nonchalant. "Part of being a wolf in a pack, I guess. Always wanting to prove how tough you are." She sighed again. "Course, I was always picturing them trying to get some kind of important information out of me. Not being used as a hostage to play sick games with my best friend."

I hesitated, then reached out to briefly touch her shoulder. Her skin blazed against mine, uncomfortable, but I held my hand there anyway. "Well, you were still brave," I said. "And tough. Tougher than I would have been."

She closed her eyes. "I almost wish they would kill me by accident—then they couldn't control you anymore."

The thought sent a shudder rippling through my frame. Much as I might hate the Volturi and being under Sulpicia's thumb, that would be the worst outcome by far. I was an immortal now, but that didn't mean I'd be able to protect the people I cared about.

I considered my reply, but before I'd decided I heard the rustle of approaching cloaks behind me, a moment before a voice spoke.

"Beau."

I stiffened slightly, then reluctantly turned. My expression could have been carved in granite.

Sulpicia had seated herself on an old stump just on the edge of the treeline, her back as straight and regal as if she were on her throne back in her palace. Tacita and Cato flanked her on either side, and Renatus crouched at her feet like a favored dog.

"Let us talk a moment—I think you deserve to know some of the strategic details of the position we are in, and why we are in such a hurry. Then you may resume your exercises."

I couldn't help but notice Kirill had not returned to stand with Elena, who was now standing beside Sulpicia, but instead had moved some distance away, to move restlessly between the trees beyond. I wondered if he was intentionally trying to keep his distance from me in case I tried to attack him again. I knew I couldn't blame him for having obeyed Sulpicia's instructions, but it was probably for the best; I still didn't feel fully rational. Images of Jules convulsing on the ground kept playing in my memory, leaving hot bursts of fury to erupt on my skin, rising up my throat.

Of course I, too, was going to have to do whatever Sulpicia and the Volturi wanted. I'd never forgive what had been done here—Jules and I were surrounded by enemies, and I wouldn't let myself forget it. One enemy, who hid behind a genteel smile and polite words, the worst of them all.

Sulpicia would probably never have to reckon for the things she had done in centuries past, or today. She was too powerful for that. I recalled Edythe's tension back in the throne room, how she had seemed more wary of Sulpicia than anyone else. Edythe had been right—of course she had.

At thoughts of Edythe, my empty chest ached. I wondered if she really had figured out the truth, or some form of it. I hoped Archie was keeping her sane. If I couldn't be there to support her, at least the rest of our family would be.

I fingered my bare ring finger.

_Wherever you are, Edythe,_ I thought, _be safe._

* * *

A/N: Maybe I'm just morbid, but I very much enjoyed working on this chapter. Next we'll be getting back to Edythe—it's one of the chapters of this story I found most difficult to write, but also have enjoyed the challenge of it too.

On a side note—is it just me, or...is Midnight Sun coming out in like a month? (Like what? Where did the time go?)

Thanks so much for reading everyone, and for all your thoughts and comments! If you have a moment, let me know what you thought this time around, and see you next time!

Posted 7/6/20 (I've started putting my next planned released date for the next chapter in my bio, so be sure to check there if you're curious.)


	17. Desperation

A/N: Continuing on with this string of tough chapters.

Honestly, the six-week schedule still feels like too long of a gap between updates, but has definitely been helpful so far in terms of getting work done. My plan now is to continue the longer schedule up through Chapter 19 (so, essentially through the end of this year), and if it all goes well, resume a normal posting schedule with the new year. My primary goal will be to get some significant editing done on the later chapters that need it, so when time for posting them comes, I don't get burned out or stuck anywhere.

Thanks for keeping up with me all this time, and for your continued patience! I haven't had a chance to read Midnight Sun yet, but I definitely will by next update, I really can't believe it's here already.

Hope you enjoy, and see you at the end!

* * *

Chapter 16: Desperation

I stood serenely in the far corner, leaning casually against the wall, as I watched the others fidget and pace in obvious agitation. Tiam wore a hole in the floor as he alternated between glancing with fear at his mate and coven sister, terrified for their safety, and glaring ferociously at me. Brena's fingers twisted in odd patterns in the air, making the flames of the torches rise and fall with nerves, as her thoughts cycled through all the stories she had ever heard of the Romanians, all the sick horrors they had perpetrated.

Demia had sunk back down onto her couch, and now stared serenely off into space. By all appearances, she seemed the most relaxed, unconcerned—only I could hear her thoughts, which churned with even more turmoil than the others of what may be to come. Of what may happen, once an alliance with such a coven was forged.

"We can take them," Brena said suddenly into the silence. "Demi, you said there were just four, the two Romanians and two guards. The three of us—we could take them down. It's not like Amun would try to fight us. The Volturi would probably be glad."

Demia blinked, and her eyes refocused on her sister. She started to open her mouth to respond—then her gaze shifted to me.

I pushed up from the wall, stepping forward. "Indeed, Demia," I said softly, in answer to her thoughts. "You are correct."

My eyes returned to Brena. "The three of you may be able to overcome the Romanians," I said. "I would not underestimate them in terms of their brute strength—that is their specialty, after all—but your power, Brena, may tip the balance in your favor." I tapped a finger against my forearm. "However, you are forgetting—you would have me to contend with as well. I don't care for these people anymore than any of you, but they are trying to find a way to fight the Volturi. And so, they are exactly what I need right now."

Brena scowled at me, and the flames of the torches flared once again, spitting with her frustration.

"What did your mate do?" she asked with sudden spite. "To get himself taken by Sulpicia. He must be a criminal."

I was strangely, almost supernaturally calm, knowing the steps I had to take to hope to save Beau. So much so that I didn't even react to the insult.

"I do not know for certain," I began slowly, feeling they deserved some kind of answer after what I may be about to put them through—had already put them through. "But I believe it is his gift that has attracted her notice. The one that protects him from tracking, and other gifts of the mind." I added softly, bitterly, "The Volturi can take whatever they want."

Demia regarded me for a long moment. _Sulpicia can take what she wants, _she silently agreed_, but that doesn't mean she does_._ I met her once, and she asked me if I would join her. And I'm still here. Did you consider that your mate might have chosen to go with her?_

I turned my eyes to regard her evenly, though I couldn't quite suppress a flicker of surprise. It was true, the fact that Sulpicia knew of Demia's power and she was now not of the guard was rather remarkable. I only had to observe Demia's power in action for a few moments to know that her abilities as a tracker far surpassed those of even Tacita and Cato working in tandem. If Demia could not be persuaded, Mele the thief would have been alive at the time of that meeting—but perhaps Sulpicia had feared stealing the gifts of vampires without cause would turn public sentiment against her.

As for Demia's speculation on Beau, she was right in a way—if our theory was correct, he had chosen to go to Sulpicia. If under the duress of blackmail could count as a choice.

I made no reply to Demia's thoughts, only letting my gaze slide to the others, first to Tiam, then to Brena. Tiam was watching my every move, tense, as though ready for another attack. Brena was taking a different tact now—the flames of the torches had once again died down, now so low the room was oddly dim. She was focusing her mind, imagining the Romanians, what they might do, the terrible things they might ask for in the course of some bargain or alliance. Her eyes met mine, and they seemed to spark as she almost threw the thoughts at me.

Of course, I didn't need her imagination to tell me all the ways this could go wrong, the terrible things that may happen, or may be asked of me. I could imagine them all well myself.

Still, I didn't flinch away, I simply gazed back at her.

"How far?" she whispered at last. "How far are you willing to go, Edythe Cullen?"

I didn't reply. The answer was in my unyielding eyes.

_As far as I have to. _

That was when we heard the deliberately loud clump of boots hitting a stone floor in the tunnels above, so loud I would have heard them even I couldn't also hear the rancid horror that was their accompanying thoughts—the Romanians were announcing their arrival.

* * *

Demia and I both followed the progress of the group. However, rather than all proceeding to the room in which we waited, Amun stopped them all in the throne room, and obsequiously explained how he would bring the rest of his coven out to introduce them.

The paranoid Romanians were immediately suspicious, which Amun seemed to sense, because he asked his mate to remain with them in case they needed anything. Kebi raised no objection, as usual, and stood compliantly off to one side as Amun left the throne room and started down the long corridor in our direction.

"He caught my scent on the way in," I murmured. "He had already told the Romanians there were only three more members of his coven. He's not pleased."

"Meaning, he'll probably try to kill you and hide you were ever here," Brena said, arms folded. She gave me a sideways look, mouth twisted. "Maybe we should let him."

She would have had more than ample right to think so, but I knew she didn't really mean it. However, she wasn't wrong about the trajectory of her coven leader's current thoughts.

We all heard the quiet tamp of feet as he approached, and there didn't come so much as a knock when the door burst open.

Amun was one of the ancients, who made the likes of Sulpicia seem a fresh-eyed newborn by comparison. However, it would have been impossible to tell by looking at him. Though he wore beads and gold jewelry of a distinctly Egyptian cast, his clothes were modern and sleek, all blacks and steel grays, in contrast to what he must have worn back in the days when he was worshiped by the Egyptians as a god. Except for the slightly fragile, papery quality to his skin, which had an olive cast to it, nothing about him would have stuck out as unusual in a human crowd, except for his crimson eyes. And even they were oddly clear, without the distinctive milk-white film of the Volturi.

Amun stood there a moment, glaring ferociously around the room, though I thought looking more like a petulant boy than a wrathful god. At last his eyes settled on me.

"What is this?" he seethed through his teeth, keeping his voice deliberately low, so there would be no chance their visitors in the far throne room would overhear. _"What is this?"_

Brena waved a hand vaguely in my direction, still looking sour. "She's a vampire."

Amun scowled. He shot a quick look back over his shoulder down the hall, as though to make sure no one had heard that. Then he quickly stepped inside, and quietly closed the door behind him.

"I can see that," he said in a low, dangerous voice. "My question is—_why_, when I have repeatedly told you _not_ to invite in strange visitors—"

"You're one to talk," Brena retorted, talking over him. "What is that you've got waiting for us out there? You're the one who told us what animals they are, yet you brought them right here."

Amun's eyes narrowed slightly, gaze flickering once to Demia, then back to Brena. There was not a hint of shame at his own hypocrisy as he said, lowering his voice still further, as though that might balance out Brena's overly loud one, "This is an opportunity. They will act, regardless of whether we help them or not, but it will be better for us all if we have clearly sided with the victors. And you may finally taste the glory of the old days."

"We like things as they are now," Brena answered, arms folded stubbornly across her chest. "You're the only one obsessed with the past, Amun."

Amun glared back at her with baleful eyes. "There is no choice," he snapped in a hiss. He glanced at me, then made a sharp gesture, like an axeman ready to fell a tree. "She'll have to go," he said abruptly. "The Romanians cannot see we have more here than I told them there would be. They are—of a delicate temperament. Inconsistencies put them on edge."

Brena snorted. "They're crazy, paranoid psychopaths, you mean."

She glanced at me, then back at Amun. Brena didn't like me, with good reason. It occurred to her then that if the four of them all attacked me at once, they might succeed in taking me down—and if I was out of the equation, then she, Demia and Tiam might have a chance against the Romanians.

However, the thought came and went—no matter what I had done, helping Amun kill me just to satisfy the Romanians didn't sit right. And she always trusted her instincts when it came to right and wrong.

Instead she said, almost aggressively, "She's a member of your friend Carine's coven, Amun. You're really just going to put her away like that? What will Carine think?"

He opened his mouth to respond, but an unexpected flicker of discomfort passed across his face. Frowning deeply, he glanced away, and, to my surprise, for the first time a hint of uncertainty crept into his mind.

It seemed Amun really did count Carine as one of the few vampires in the world who he respected and _almost_ liked, and he regretted the idea of turning her against him. However, his instinct toward self-preservation and pragmatism was absolute, and always won out over all other feelings.

He turned back toward me again, and opened his mouth to repeat what he had said, more vehemently than before.

Deciding I had let this conversation wind on long enough, I stepped forward, offering my hand to shake.

"Master Amun?" I said politely. "My name is Edythe Cullen. As Brena says I am a member of Carine's coven. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. If you don't mind, I would be happy to help your coven welcome your guests—as it happens, I have business with them as well."

Amun blinked, then eyed my hand suspiciously, as though it might be a trap. Most of our kind recoiled at the mere mention of the name of the Romanians, and in such a situation would attempt to flee, perhaps even try to report it to Sulpicia. Was this somehow a ploy? A member of Carine's coven who wanted to meet the Romanians—it seemed like a paradox.

I could feel the Romanians growing restless back in the throne room and, deciding that perhaps directness might help move things along a bit quicker, I added candidly, "Of course, Master Amun, you could try to subdue and destroy me, and the four of you together could probably do so eventually—but as your coven can attest, it would likely be a longer, more difficult struggle than you might expect. I am not one to ever be taken unawares, and your new friends would no doubt hear the struggle, and wonder that you can't keep your home well in order."

Amun looked startled for a moment, briefly unnerved as he looked into my still politely smiling face. He glanced to the others for some sign of confirmation.

"She has a gift as well," Demia admitted in a neutral voice.

Amun's gaze returned to me, as he appraised me with new eyes. "What sort of gift?"

My smile widened slightly. "Let's just say, the Romanians may be as happy to meet me as your other gifted coven members." I added, with careless arrogance, "Your covenmates here might have already departed, if I hadn't made it clear how much I wanted us all to meet your guests."

Amun took a moment to digest the implications of all this. He didn't nod in agreement—he did not like presenting to the Romanians someone who he didn't know, whose motivations were still unclear, and he didn't trust I wouldn't turn on them in a moment for whatever it might be I was after. However, he was beginning to come around to the fact he wasn't going to have much choice.

Meanwhile, the others knew they would have to go out and meet the Romanians as well, much as they might resist it. Brena still wasn't sure she had made the right choice, not moving to help Amun dispatch me. She couldn't imagine trying to destroy a member of Carine's coven—the Carine she had heard so much about that even Amun didn't have a bad word to say against—especially when I was clearly driven to desperation by separation from a mate.

And yet—dealing with the Romanians in a possible coup against the Volturi, that was potentially world changing. It was impossible to tell where this might all be leading, if it would all eventually end up with everything going entirely to hell. And so, Brena's thoughts continued to stew.

The impatient Romanians were already considering taking Kebi as a hostage to get Amun to hurry it up. Hoping to get things moving before they could get out of hand, I gestured toward the exit. "Shall we?" I said.

Scowling at me, Amun opened the door, and they all filed through, though not before each shooting me dirty looks as they passed. My polite smile didn't waver, but the moment they turned their backs to me, I felt a sliver of guilt slip past my defenses. I should be on their side. I would be, under different circumstances. The Romanians were vile beyond description, no one in the room knew that better than I did. Joining forces with the likes of them was madness, and could lead no where good.

But I couldn't afford to back down now. This was my way forward, my only hope. If I failed to impress the Romanians, likely they would destroy me—but that was a risk I had to take. Because if I failed to act, to take the chance offered to me, there would be no one to save Beau.

Making sure my easy, pleasant expression hadn't changed, I stepped after the procession of Egyptians, closing the door to the clean, light, modern room behind me. Proceeding instead toward the dark, unfamiliar world of the past.

* * *

The throne room was, as it had been the first time, breathtaking in its design and sheer vastness. The ancient writings and images that covered every inch of the massive walls, which would have taken thousands of hours of human labor, was a marvel, and the grand pillars leading back to the wide stone plinth on which sat the throne gave the place an indescribable aura of power, of majesty.

However, if the Romanians had had any interest in their exquisite surroundings upon their arrival, they took no notice now. Four figures were congregated around the elevated throne, all scowling menacingly. Two stood a little in front of the others, their bulky shoulders half obscuring the others from view, clearly the bodyguards.

I wouldn't have been surprised to see at least one of the figures had taken up the throne, perhaps as an insult to Amun for keeping them waiting so long, to show him who were the masters here. However, both had opted to remain standing, just behind their guards—sitting around on thrones was only for the most indolent of their kind, like Amun and the Volturi.

One of the figures had been pacing in obvious agitation, but at our arrival, he stopped and looked up.

His hair, a dull ash-blond, hung in curtains down to his chin, and his surprisingly short, thin frame was clad entirely in black, a black leather coat over a black high-necked shirt. There seemed nothing particularly intimidating or striking about him—until one looked at his eyes. His sharp, narrow eyes were a clear, deep burgundy, and though his expression might have initially been taken as placid, there seemed to be something burning in those eyes. Like festering, acid poison, a dark bitterness that would swallow any light like a black hole.

Just a few paces over from him stood a woman. She was built the same as he, on the shorter side, with a slight frame. She also wore the same type of nondescript black clothing, which would make her almost invisible in the night to human eyes, with a high-collared overcoat which extended down almost to her calves. Unlike the man, she stood motionless beside the throne, and looked as though she hadn't moved from that spot the moment she entered. Her long dark hair flowed freely down her back, with a single gray streak extending from her temple—no doubt she must have begun graying early as a human, for she couldn't have been beyond her early twenties when turned.

Her eyes were the same deep clear burgundy as the man's, just as sharp and narrow. But unlike the man, there would have been no mistaking her expression as one of tranquility. Her eyes glared at the entering procession like twin daggers, mouth pressed in a thin line. Though she stood still, a quiver ran over her face now and again, barely containing an inborn ferocity.

I remembered what Demia had said, about the Romanians being beasts. She had been talking about the bloody past when the Romanians ruled, their ravenous appetites which they believed it was their right not to be forced to suppress—but it was a truer description of this woman than I had seen in any of our kind, including Victor. She was a wild animal, barely under control. Or so, that was how she appeared.

Her furious, blazing eyes focused first on Amun, like a hawk ready to dive for its prey, before darting to each of his coven in turn, before at last coming to rest on me. Her gaze lingered on me a long moment, almost as though she could smell me as an outsider—and she could. She saw immediately that there was an extra body among our number, and mine had been the freshest scent in entering Amun's underground home. Unlike the others, my scent did not permeate the place.

There was a sharpness to the woman's wildness, a keen, calculating mind—even if much of it came on pure instinct.

Amun brought his coven to stand before the dais, and seemed to realize for the first time it may not have been a good idea to leave the Romanians in such an elevated position—he knew he couldn't lead his coven up to equal ground without appearing threatening, especially with the two guards standing in front of the small series of steps leading up to the throne. But he knew there was nothing to be done about it now.

Amun's mouth split into a wide, welcoming smile. While sullenness was his default, from his days as an Egyptian overlord he still knew how to play the charming host.

"Mighty Vladimir, glorious Rahela, my friends," he began. "My deepest apologies for the delay. Let me introduce you to the spectacular talents of my coven, as I was telling you of. First is—"

Rahela let out a vicious snarl, cutting Amun off. She glared down at me, jabbing an accusing finger in my direction.

"What is this, Amun?" she demanded, in an ancient voice that hissed and rasped like a nest of snakes. "Treachery? You said there were only three more of your coven—_what is this?_"

"Ah," said Amun, still managing to smile though straining to keep his voice easy and pleasant. "Yes, I was about to get to that. It seems we had an unexpected visitor while Kebi and I were out. A covenmate of an old friend of mine. Quite unexpected, I assure you, we don't normally have company here. But excellent timing, as I assume you could use all the forces you can—"

Rahela let loose another snarl, bending her shoulders and curling her lips back from her teeth like a wild dog, and Amun once again fell instantly silent.

"_We _will tell you what you are allowed to assume," she spat. Her blazing eyes wheeled to him briefly, just in time to see his meek nod, before returning to me.

"_This_," she said, gesturing to me as though I were a sack of refuse, "is undoubtedly a spy for Sulpicia. You are a fool, Amun—but since you possess such potentially valuable assets, we will let you live in spite of your idiocy, for the time being. We will take care of this problem for you." She nodded at the two guards. "Kill her," she ordered.

The two, who had been sweeping their gazes over Amun and the others of the Egyptian coven, looking for any signs of hostility or threat, suddenly focused their harsh gazes on me. They both bent forward, baring their teeth in a ferocity that mirrored that of their mistress.

They were obviously well experienced, yet their movements didn't have the perfect, almost eery synchronicity of Sulpicia's forces. They were enforcers of a street gang, not the rigorously disciplined soldiers of an army.

If they had been Sulpicia's people, I would have been done screaming my final moments before any of the Egyptian coven could think about interfering. As it was, the guards rolled their shoulders, and took their time as they advanced. One split from the other, to come at me from another direction. Less because they were afraid I might actually put up a fight, than simply to make the hunt, short as it would be, a bit more fun. Their master and mistress preferred killings to be a drawn out if possible, for their entertainment.

Their mistake—because it gave me time to talk.

I sighed, long and deep, as though in disappointment, before turning my eyes back up to Rahela. Technically, Vladimir and Rahela were partners, with neither claiming leadership over the other, but Rahela tended to be the one to give the orders and take charge, while Vladimir preferred to fade to the background and provide counsel. She tended to be the Romanians' face. So I turned my attention to her.

"Are you really going to kill me, Rahela?" I asked, in a tone that dripped with condescension, even as the hulking figures closed in, readying to tear me apart. "Will you kill a fellow enemy of Sulpicia, and your only true chance of finally defeating her?"

I locked my eyes with hers, making sure she would see and take note of the unusual yellow of my irises. I added softly, "You know as well as I do, Rahela. You know even with this opportunity, you cannot overcome Sulpicia as your forces stand now. You need one more thing—something I just happen to have."

Rahela stared back at me, her crimson eyes burning like red flames. Pieces of thought blazed through her mind at dizzying speeds. Her mind was not like Sulpicia's—it was not methodical and precise, weighing and considering a thousand details until it reached the most logical conclusion. Rather the bits and pieces spun in a rage of chaos, anchored from below more by primal instinct than logic.

However, strangely, her instincts were sharper than knives, an intelligent force all their own, and two clues stood out to her to make this situation unusual—unusual enough that perhaps it might just be worth the risk.

"Guards!" she demanded, in her rasping hiss of a voice.

No other command seemed necessary, as both hesitated where they were. Both stared at me with eyes slightly wider than usual—halting an execution was clearly not something they did often, and they both eyed me with a kind of disappointed frustration. Neither moved from their positions of their two-pronged attack.

I didn't even turn to look at the guard now glaring at my back as I smiled, while Rahela stared down at me with ferocious loathing.

Vladimir watched the scene silently, glancing at Rahela, then at me. He trusted Rahela's instincts, too. Her instincts, which picked up on my curious lack of fear, and couldn't help but feel that surely Sulpicia would never fall so low as to select me, with my contemptible gold eyes, as her representative.

Rahela's laser-like gaze focused on me, and while it felt like she might bore a hole right through my skull, I didn't stop smiling. Somewhere, in the far, far back of my mind, in a place where I forgot that Beau was Sulpicia's prisoner, forgot that I had just threatened and forced the hand of good people, and that I was talking to vicious monsters with minds filled with memories of decadence and savagery as rancid as a festering corpse—I thought I might almost be enjoying myself.

Rahela was waiting for me to speak, and I bowed my head slightly. "Two thousand years ago, yours was the most powerful coven of this world," I began.

Even as I said it, I could see the images from that time in their minds, clear as though they had happened moments ago—the crimson of fresh flowing blood, the drained bodies piled high. I had to swallow back my revulsion. These two were truly an evil beyond comprehension—they reveled in dreams of a return to excess, to escape Sulpicia's _duplicitous_ world where our kind skulked in the shadows, curbing their appetites while the humans did as they pleased. They longed to take the world back to what it had once been, where they ruled as gods over the humans slaves, free to gorge themselves on seas of human blood whenever they wished.

I thought I might be sick with the stench of my mind touching theirs, but I didn't let it show on my face, instead letting it wash past me, like the distant, unreal images of an old movie reel, locking it away.

I continued, "The Volturi stole that power from you, and you lost many." My eyes wandered briefly to Vladimir, whose expression hadn't changed, but for a slight darkening in his deep red eyes. The mental image of his vanquished mate flashed briefly through his thoughts, the battle against the rebel Volturi forces that had taken her from him.

"Centuries past," I went on, "and you prepared yourselves for retribution, to put the temporary Volturi usurpers in their place. But by that time, the Volturi had gained new power, the power of two in particular—and you lost even more."

My gaze had gone back to Rahela now, and her wild features blazed, lips drawn back from her teeth. She knew what I meant—three centuries after the Volturi took power, the Romanians had built up a newborn force of a hundred strong, to topple the Volturi regime, and annihilate its members so thoroughly even the memory of them would be burned to ash. But by that time, Sulpicia had discovered Jonathan and Alexa—and all the Romanian forces were wiped out, all but Vladimir and Stefan, who had been in charge of springing a trap on what was supposed to be the fleeing Volturi. Or so Rahela, who alone had barely managed to escape the carnage of the battle by the skin of her teeth, had thought—except that Sulpicia sent forces to eliminate them as well. Vladimir escaped—Stefan, Rahela's most beloved mate, did not.

In reading the thoughts of the Romanians, I had gleaned a bit of new information, something that had finally answered the question that had been in the back of my mind from the beginning. Now I put that information to use.

"Now Sulpicia no longer wields that power—Jonathan and Alexa are lost to her. Which is why you have chosen now to strike." From the beginning, it had been unclear precisely why Sulpicia would want Beau in particular to fight for her in the rebellion—the loss of Jonathan and Alexa, known to Rahela and Vladimir through spies they kept among the enemy rebel forces, explained it. Beau alone had ever shown the capacity to block their talents.

However, this knowledge only registered as a dull blip on the edge of my radar. When it came down to it, the why wasn't really that important. The chances Beau's power could really be used successfully the way Sulpicia hoped was unlikely at best, and if anything, without the protection of Jonathan and Alexa among the Volturi, his being counted among the Volturi guards' numbers would be more dangerous than ever. If not from Sulpicia herself, then her enemies.

"Only you have forgotten a key detail," I said, keeping my head slightly bowed, though speaking without an ounce of apology. "And that is that Sulpicia and the Volturi defeated you the first time without the help of Jonathan and Alexa. Do you know why that was?"

Rahela snarled viciously, bending her head once again like a tiger about to charge. "Deception!" she spat. "Duplicity! Sulpicia weaves her webs in the shadows like a coward."

"Her forces took yours by surprise," I supplied. "Again and again. Strategy. But how did she accomplish that? It was her knowledge—the information she accumulated through a network, and through capturing those among your own forces. It was Sulpicia's power to delve into the minds of all she touched that allowed her to keep a step ahead of you, to catch you at your most vulnerable and avoid any traps you might set. Even now, you cannot completely escape Sulpicia's all-seeing eye. From the moment you approach her, she will anticipate your plans, and thwart you."

Rahela's eyes narrowed to slits, lips curling back so far from her teeth I could see the points of her canines, so sharp they glinted in the torchlight. "Have you come here merely to sing the praises of that vile usurper then?" _Impudent wretch, I will burn each of the fingers from your hands. I will show you pain as you never knew could have existed..._

I shook my head. "Hardly. Rather—to defeat Sulpicia, she cannot be underestimated. Jonathan and Alexa's powers are great, but it is _her_ power that has made the Volturi invulnerable. When she can see every plan of her enemies, she will always react just as she needs to—she will always be the one to catch you unawares, not the other way around."

"So what would you suggest, little arrogant fool?" Rahela said, lip curling in a sneer that held not a trace of humor. "Run and take cover from her all-seeing eye like rabbits?"

I smiled again, finally fully raising my head from my bow. "No," I said. "I suggest evening the playing field—if you know her moves before she makes them, then she cannot control the chess board the way she always has. Take away her advantage by seizing the same advantage for yourself."

Rahela eyed me skeptically. "And how would you propose we do that?" _She is only talking to save herself. The child has nothing to offer. Those pathetic yellow eyes—I should burn them out, along with that silver tongue. _

I wrinkled my nose slightly. The time had come to play my hand. "I suppose such brutish tactics are befitting the Romanian way," I said. "But if you are trying to inflict the greatest punishment on those who deserve it, I've always considered it a mistake to focus so much on physical torture as to neglect the psychological."

Silence, for a beat. I could feel Amun and Kebi looking on in confusion, while Vladimir eyed Rahela, then me with curiosity. Of course, Brena, Demi and Tiam had all known where this was building up to from the beginning—and their thoughts were not so far from what Archie's probably would have been if he had been here. Wanting to shake their heads at my unnecessary theatrics.

I put a hand to my mouth as I stared up at Rahela, though my smile had only broadened. "Oops," I said softly. "I'm sorry, did you not say that out loud?"

"Are you..." she began, narrowed eyes fixed on me. _...A mind-reader?_

"I am," I said, without hesitation.

_You are reading my thoughts now?_

"Yes," I said, wishing she would come up with something more original to better prove my point. "My power is not exactly like Sulpicia's—I can't flip back through your entire life like a book. But I don't need to touch you. I don't even need to see you. I can hear you all, all at once, whatever you're thinking right now. And when I'm close enough, I can hear Sulpicia, too. And she's not nearly as invincible as she would like to appear."

Rahela's intense, feral expression had slackened slightly for once as she digested this. Her instinctual calculations churned, not immediately identifying all the ways my power might be used, but now seeing its usefulness all the same. Level the playing field—for years they had wondered if there might be a way to block out Sulpicia's power, but never found one. But perhaps this was the best solution. Meet offense with offense, attack with attack—that was the Romanian way.

I didn't let my expression change, but I felt a chill down my spine all the same. Sulpicia had been interested in Beau's power from the beginning, had seen the potential of it. The Romanians would also certainly have reason to value Beau's power very highly if they ever came to know of it. That would be a nightmare even beyond how things stood now.

_I see,_ she thought—she seemed to take to communicating by thought alone very quickly, as though the formality of speaking aloud had always been an unnatural inconvenience. _Before you called yourself an enemy of the Volturi. What is your grievance with the cowards? _

This time, it took all my willpower not to let my smile flicker, to stop my face from contorting, the pain burning in my eyes for all to see. My smile remained as it was—and strangely, a single image of Sulpicia's smile, back in the Volturi's lair, flickered through my thoughts. Sulpicia rarely betrayed her emotions, except perhaps to achieve some deliberate effect. Because emotion could be used to control, to manipulate. Rahela was like a wild dog, and if she smelled any weakness in me, she would pounce on it, and I would lose control of this situation. If I wanted to get what I wanted, I had to be like Sulpicia, in more than simply mind reading—I had to be unshakeable, invulnerable.

"Sulpicia took my mate from me," I said simply, matter-of-factly. "I would like him back."

Rahela scrutinized me, the wheels turning in her head. _ And what would she want with your mate?_

I hesitated. This was the tricky part. I could feel the eyes of Brena, Demi, and Tiam on me, and I cursed myself now for being so free with my words. I could only hope their dislike of the Romanians would prevent them saying anything—though they could not hear Rahela's questions, they were already piecing them together from my replies.

"I don't know for certain," I said slowly, carefully. "I did not have a chance to attempt to read her thoughts, she is too far away. However, from thoughts I gleaned before, I do believe...perhaps..." I took a short breath. "Sulpicia saw me as a threat. A minor one, perhaps, but she knew that if I were ever so inclined to overthrow her, I would be one of the best equipped to do so. I wonder if she took my mate as leverage—or in hopes of brainwashing him to her side so that he might sway me if I ever did consider rebellion."

I anticipated Rahela's question even before she mentally formed the words, and I said, "Sulpicia could not destroy me without a justifiable reason, lest she make the members of her guard question her justness. Not to mention I am a member of a coven who is a great friend of Sulpicia's, and she would be reluctant to lose that friendship unless absolutely necessary."

I could sense the looks from the Egyptian coven, perfectly aware of my lies, and only hoped that neither Rahela nor Vladimir noticed. "Of course," I continued, "if she did take my mate to use as leverage to prevent me striking when her powers are reduced, her strategy has backfired. It wouldn't be the first time. Sulpicia, murderer of her own mate, does not always have a proper understanding of the bonds of mated pairs."

This was a blatant lie—no one understood others and the depth of shared bonds as Sulpicia did. But Rahela was always delighted at any insult to Sulpicia.

Rahela studied me critically for a long moment. _A captured mate—an unlikely story at best,_ she thought. _If her mate was truly at stake, she would not take such a risk. She must mean to take the usurper's place herself, and betray us at the first opportunity. But either way—if she has the power to help us annihilate the enemy, that will be a first step out of the way. This green child would be easy to subdue and remove by comparison. _

Beneath the churning of Rahela's almost instinctual thoughts, I couldn't fully tell if she had forgotten I would be able to hear these thoughts, or if she didn't care. In any event, she hadn't the slightest fear of me—but she had already come around to seeing the tool I might make. Already she was jumping ahead, making up her mind what to do with me first.

"You make a compelling argument," she said at last, speaking aloud again. "And your power seems... useful. You would make a helpful lieutenant—we have a great force assembled, as you must already know. Unfortunately, there is currently no one into whose ear you might whisper your information. For all their training, they are without a general."

Very suddenly, Rahela's thin lips curved upward into a wicked, almost cruel smile. "We have been looking for someone," she almost purred. "Someone with the right charisma, the gift for persuasion. Vladimir and I are far too old and important to be leading troops into battle, which is why we have been looking for young blood. Perhaps you have pictured yourself as a kind of informant, an adviser—but it may be we can offer you something even better than that. I think, if you are properly to make use of your power to its fullest extent to rival the usurper, then you must have direct decision-making power, as she does. Wouldn't you agree?"

Rahela's smile was far from kind, and as I stared back into it, I saw flashes of images play through her mind. General after appointed general, lured in at the prospect of leading such a force that may just one day overthrow the great Volturi. Torn to bits by the vicious rabble the Romanians had assembled.

Rahela knew the value of my power. But at the same time, there was nothing she relished more than watching the drama play out, first the posturing attempt at securing leadership, followed by violence of the most intense kind, the deposing of a hated leader. If I somehow, by some miracle, succeeded where no one else had, she would have a general with powers to rival Sulpicia's. If I failed, then it would still temporarily unite the forces in their shared hatred of being forced to follow a general's commands. And she would get to enjoy the spectacle.

I was more use to Rahela alive than dead, but she didn't care. More than anything, her instincts craved the rush and satisfaction of brutal violence—and I knew she wasn't going to do anything to protect me from her assembled pack of wild dogs.

I stared back up at Rahela, the wild joy flickering in her clear burgundy eyes. I didn't let myself flinch—didn't let myself stop even for a moment to fear or consider the possibility of failure. This was an opportunity, an opportunity beyond what I had been expecting. Even if Rahela only offered it mainly to enjoy watching my destruction, I could gain powers I never could have expected. And with that power, I might just have a chance to save Beau after all.

I felt again the Egyptian coven's gazes on me. Amun was torn between sullen for the way I had taken over this meeting, and relieved that Rahela's bent for cruelty and shows of power were focused on me, and not him. The others just wondered how I would respond.

At long last, I bowed my head slightly. "I'm honored—you will not be disappointed."

"No," Rahela said, grin widening, her black-painted lips stretching until all her teeth gleamed once again in the flickering torchlight, the streak of gray in her hair seeming to glow almost as red as the dark crimson of her human-fed eyes. "I will not."

I wondered how this would all play out. If I succeeded, and took over the Romanians' forces. Would I be able to save Beau in time to doublecross these beasts and stop them from destroying the only thing keeping this world at peace? Or, having joined forces with the Romanians, even if only for a short time, would saving Sulpicia at the last minute only ensure Beau and I would be forever criminals on the run, until she executed us as she had so many other traitors?

I wished now I had Archie's power to see into the various strands of the future. But now it was all murky and clouded. However—there was still one thing that was clear, that had always been clear.

If I could just get to Beau, make sure he was safe, then everything else would be all right. Then we could decide what to do. Until then, I just had to keep following that strand, the strand that would lead me back to him, where I could once again stand at his side, however I could. I'd keep living the nightmare until it finally led me back where I belonged—or so I hoped.

* * *

A/N: And, we've made it to the end of another one.

As far as the initial drafting goes, this was by far the hardest chapter, and I was stuck in the middle of it for something like a year. I always struggle trying to write about new characters and places, and even when I finally forced myself through to the end of it, the draft was really bad, and I got stuck again on it for months when I was going through revising the rest of the chapters. So, getting this one done and out is a bit of a landmark on this project.

Side note on Carine and the Romanians—from what we know from Breaking Dawn, I wasn't entirely clear if Carlisle was supposed to have already have met them at some point. (Clearly he didn't invite them, but from the dialogue that Bella overhears, it feels as though he recognized them, and he calls them by name later in a familiar-seeming way.) On the other hand, introductions could have been made before Bella started listening to the conversation, plus it does seem like any interaction with them could be considered treachery by the Volturi. For this Reimagined version, I'm going to say that, even though Carine did form a friendship with Amun, she never met the Romanians.

Thanks so much for reading! If you have a moment, let me know what you thought, this was definitely a major one. Hope to see you next time! (Next planned update date will be in my bio, as always.)

Posted 8/10/20


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